


Informant

by WhitethornWolf



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-12-31 06:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12126291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/WhitethornWolf
Summary: You know the situation by now, and if you've been listening, you know there's new kids in town.We've heard Courtney's story. Now it's Esthra's turn.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I highly suggest reading my fic 'The Alliance' first.  
> This fic assumes knowledge of the Animorphsverse.

<State your name, _aristh_. >

 Once, someone had told me the Electorate’s hearings were presided over by twice the amount of judiciaries needed. That only a handful were actually there to decide on sentencing, and the rest were for intimidation.

 I’d scoffed at the time, certain they were exaggerating. Looking up at the number of eyes set upon me now, I believed it.

 Fifteen pairs of main eyes. Fifteen pairs of stalk eyes. Fifteen Andalites stared and calculated and watched my every move: every nervous shuffle, every twitch of my tail, every sideways glance. They did not merely look at me, but _through_ me. The sensors fixed to my chest fed a continuous stream of physiological information to the holographic screens each judiciary stood at. I was laid bare in three dimensions. Nowhere to hide.

 <My name is Esthra-Shathur-Halas,> I said.

 < _Aristh_ Esthra-Shathur-Halas, > the presiding magistrate said. He was old enough to be my grandfather. His fur was more tan than blue, and the skin around his main eyes was wrinkled. <Do you know why you have been commanded to this hearing?>

 <Not entirely, sir.>

 That got a few titters from the audience. The old magistrate silenced them with a look that could shrivel grass.

<You do not know the charges brought against you?> he said, with a hint of disbelief. He gestured to the nearest judiciary, who began to read from one of the screens.

 <The charges,> she intoned. <Incompetence. Cowardice under fire. Treason, Class One…>

 My first instinct was to cry in outrage. Incompetence? That would be insulting, if I didn’t know it was a charge that carried a serious penalty. The others were just baffling.

Cowardice? Class One treason? Never!

It’s true I was no warrior, not until I was made one. But I was also no coward. And I was no traitor. _That_ particular accusation rankled me.

 I barely held myself in check until the judiciary finished speaking. I was confused. Angry. Frightened. I knew it showed on my face, and on the screens for everyone to see.

My hearts raced. My lungs expanded to suck shallow breaths through my nostrils. My fingers clenched into fists and I forced myself to remain still and calm.

 <These are serious charges, _aristh_ Esthra,> the magistrate said. <Have you a statement to make?>

 <A statement?> I repeated, caught off guard.

 Maybe at this point the judiciaries would have laughed again, but evidently they had as much healthy respect for the old Andalite as I did. They were silent and stone-faced.

<Do you have anything to say for yourself?>

 A statement. Yes. I could do that.

I let myself breathe, deeply this time, and began to speak.

 <My name is Esthra-Shathur-Halas,> I began.

 <I believe we have heard your name twice already,> the magistrate said. He looked bored and contemptuous now. <We are acquainted with who you are.>

 Cold anger rose in my chest. <No, you are not.>

There were several intakes of breath from the other judiciaries. The old Andalite gave me a dangerous look, but I was too angry and afraid to be cautious.

<With respect,> I said with as much dignity as I could manage. <You know my name, my personnel history. You know who and what my father is. You do not know _me_. >

Silence so loud I could hear my hearts hammering in my ears.

<Continue,> the magistrate said after a pause.

 I resumed speaking. This time, no-one interrupted me.

Every Andalite in that room knew the long, dark shadow of my father’s legacy. I had never been free of it, never thought to be free of it.

<Only in the last few weeks had I given consideration to the fundamental questions every Andalite must at some point ask themself.

What would I do--what lengths would I go to? What sacrifices would I make? What would I do for my princes, my people. My family.>

 More eyes on me, their gazes intense, focused. I had their attention. Good--this would take a while.

 If this was to be my statement, let it be a _hirac delest_. Let them acquit or condemn me as Esthra, daughter of no-one.


	2. Chapter 1

<This is exemplary work, Esthra.>

 The voice in my head was approving. Equations marched across the semi-transparent screen in front of me, and I paused to collect myself at my mentor’s praise.

 <Thank you, sir.>

 Not too overeager, not too indifferent. It was a fine balance.

Immediately my main eyes picked out an equation I now knew was wrong, and I groaned internally. Perhaps he would not notice, by some measure of luck.

My mentor paused, touched the screen with one finger and enhanced the equation.

I don’t know what I expected. Scientists like Jinha-Esth-Sirinial didn’t miss anything. Especially not scientists who helped to design one of our most advanced technologies.

 <I am able to correct that error,> I said quickly.

 Jinha turned a stalk eye to look at me. <How blessed we would be with foresight,> he said, though not unkindly.

 I released a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.

 As a mentor and my superior, it was Jinha’s job to instruct -- and correct, as the case may be. I understood this. I expected it. How else could we learn and grow? The lesson had been drilled into me at school, and I had certainly made enough errors in my life to know this routine. Even more so because I was a female, and that came with the understanding I could be both an asset and a liability.

 Jinha was the first of my mentors who accepted me on my own merit. This made him highest in my estimation.

 <Close,> Jinha instructed, and the screen powered down. <Come, I have something for you in my office.>

 As the most junior science staff, my work station was in the tiniest corner of a very large laboratory. I didn’t mind the lack of space. Most Dome ships didn’t even have a science wing. These days most of our spacecraft was made for war. Everyone from cadets to veterans were packed on board; sent to distant solar systems far from home, confined in places far smaller than any Andalite is used to. Such was the necessity of war.

The Dome ship _SolarStorm_ was different--retrieved mere days from being decommissioned, cleaned, repaired and redesigned for exploration and discovery.

It still had the same fundamental design of course -- long and gently curving, with the dome spreading outwards on top like a budding flower. And yes, there were warriors, fighters; enough shredder cannon to make any enemy think twice about an attack. But there was also an entire science, engineering and technology division.

Applied plintconarhythmic physics, a highly specialized branch of biochemical engineering. Exodatology, which required a knowledge of mathematical computer code beyond even me. Biotechnology...even horticulture. I knew some of the warriors and princes sneered at the work we did, but I was used to scorn in some form or another.

I would like to say I had my career planned out on this ship. Not too long ago I was a graduate from school, fresh with knowledge and blazing with enthusiasm. My uncle offered to sponsor me into one of the best universities on the planet, but I had been hand-picked for a long-term study of morph-capable warriors. My specialty? Biotechnology. Specifically, bioweapons and morphing.

I was going to study the science of morphing. I was going to improve it.

Looking back they seemed like foolish dreams, and perhaps they were. At the time I was singularly focused on the joys of my work, and I thought of nothing else but my ambition.

<Your work has improved consistently during your time here,> Jinha said as we walked down the corridor. <I am confident you are ready to assume further responsibility.>

He stopped at the very end of the hall, in front of a seamless door, and punched in a code. I made a point of looking away, as is only polite, but his fingers moved too quickly for me to pick up the security code.

 Not that I had need of it anyway; I was confident I could hack the security system without. But he didn’t need to know that, of course.

Jinha had his own private work space, as expected for the head of the ship’s entire science division. I tried not to stare too obviously when he beckoned me in. The room was pristine. And so quiet!

<I would cut off my tail for quarters like these,> I said without thinking, and immediately regretted it. Any scientist worth their _exon_ wished for their own private laboratory, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

But my mentor only laughed. <Envious, young one?>

<I meant no disrespect.>

<And I heard none.> He strode past me. <Perhaps one day you will be the one to run this wing, and I can retire to the homeworld to watch my trees grow. One can only hope.>

This time I knew better than to answer. Instead I inhaled the fresh, sharp smell of disinfectant and watched a centrifuge gently rotating against the far wall. One stalk eye followed my mentor as a shimmering screen appeared over the seamless surface of a cabinet set into the wall.

<Alert,> the computer intoned. <Security encryption enabled.>

Jinha pressed his fingers to the screen and stood still to allow his main eyes to be scanned.

That got my attention. Biometric encryption was a little old-fashioned compared to the psychic encryption we used these days. Not something I’d expected to see in a retrofitted Dome ship. Why not transmit an access code via his implant, like normal? Or even use an encrypted memory as a key. That was the latest, or so I had heard.

The cabinet door became transparent, though Jinha’s head and shoulders blocked my view of its contents. But then he turned and my gaze immediately fell on the device he held in both hands.

It looked deceptively simple. A pale blue cube, smooth-sided on all but one inscribed with its specifications. It was powered down and dull, but I knew it would glow when activated. I had seen it before in school.

 The Escafil device.

 

One of the greatest of our innovations. Its programming one of the most coveted technologies in the known galaxy, and the sole property of the Andalite people: the power to morph into another living creature.

I know I must sound prideful. I am not given to boasting, but I knew the technology and what it is capable of. I had been studying it for a significant amount of time.

<As a _junior_ research assistant, I am sure you understand the value of this device.>

<Yes,> I replied. Trying not to sound as nervous as I suddenly felt.

<But...as a colleague, I encourage you to learn as much as you can about this. It truly is an astonishing piece of technology. We have yet to unlock its full potential.> He gave me a wink with one of his main eyes. <Even its designers are still tinkering with it.>

I accepted the cube with slightly clumsy hands, but thankfully managed to avoid humiliating myself in the process. If I’d dropped an Escafil device in front of Jinha I would have died on the spot.

<I will,> I said, then blinked. <That is, I will take care of it.>

<I have every faith in you,> my mentor replied with a wry smile.

That wasn’t all, of course. One does not simply take the Escafil device from the science wing and leave. It was the only one on the ship, and had been provided to Jinha with the understanding it would be taken care of.

My file was updated with current scans of my eyes and fingerprints, and an exact description of the cube’s appearance and functionality. The device was merely on loan, and you could be sure Jinha would be keeping a close eye on my research.

Even then, he still allowed me to finish my assigned shift and take the device to my quarters, where I could examine it in private.

That’s why he was the best.

He was also right with his earlier assessment. The device was not exactly brand new technology, but in the years since its development there had been little to improve, and its distribution from the military had made other innovations possible. Still, nothing beat the device’s first and ultimate use.

The temptation to use it and give myself the morphing power was powerful I admit, but I knew better than to risk serious disciplinary action. Morphing technology was granted to every Andalite who attended the military academy, and every _aristh_ \-- every warrior -- was trained in its basic use now. Females were not allowed to serve as warriors, and I had never attended the academy.

I did not want to be a warrior in the first place, so that never bothered me. I had heard all the excuses before. Females were weaker, they said. Their tail blades were smaller; they were not built to be warriors. It was pointless to argue, and given the future I envisioned for myself, irrelevant. I was going to carve my career path in the sciences. I was going to be like Escafil, and perhaps one day I would make a monumental discovery, like they did with their device.

Little did I know how quickly my career -- and my life -- was about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exon - a mineral. Basically, an Andalite equivalent to 'worth their salt'.


	3. Chapter 2

_WHUMPF_.

 I cried out in pain and shock, instantly awake as a shockwave swept across the ship and knocked me against my desk. Seconds later, I heard a thought-speak announcement broadcast ship-wide.

_ <Launch fighters in bays two and three -- Prince Ghalad, report to the bridge immediately -- > _

The announcements continued in a steady stream, but I stopped  paying attention. My mind raced, trying to catch up with what I’d missed as I slept.

_We’ve been hit!_

I wondered what kind of fools our attackers were, ignoring the little voice inside my head that called me arrogant. I knew, though; I knew the likely answer was the most obvious one. There was only one species who would dare to attack a fully armed Andalite Dome ship.

_Yeerks._

I shivered despite myself. The Yeerks, a slug-like species, were vulnerable in their natural state but not to be underestimated. With the power to literally invade a being’s mind and control them, they had enslaved dozens of races, millions of people -- and a single Andalite.

They would have more of us, if they could. It was not a pleasant thought.

My quarters were situated in the science facilities like the rest of my colleagues. It should have been quiet, but when I emerged several people nearly bowled me over as they rushed down the long corridor.

They were heading toward the drop shaft. Some of them I recognised from the laboratory, research assistants or technicians. They were also trained warriors, not serving in that capacity… until now, it seemed.

Distracted by all the commotion, I  nearly collided with Jinha at the end of the corridor -- a mistake he didn’t acknowledge with a joke or lecture. Clearly he was as bothered by the summons as I was.

< _Aristh_ ,> he said, then corrected himself. The title was meant for warrior cadets, and I was no warrior. <Esthra.>

<Can I assist in some way?> I asked as he turned to the drop shaft’s computer panel.

Jinha didn’t laugh like I expected, only sighed. <I don’t have time for this, young one.>

That hurt, but I tried not to show it. <Of course. I should not keep you from your duty.>

Jinha called up the screen and programmed the shaft for a hangar bay. He seemed to hesitate, then turned back towards me.

I don’t know what made him pause. He owed me nothing. He was not my prince, nor my family. I must have looked young, pathetic. Lost.

<Report to the bridge,> he commanded. <They may need someone to monitor communications between our fighters.>

A rush of relief lightened the weight on my chest. <Yes, sir!>

He hesitated again, but the drop shaft doors opened with a quiet hiss and the moment passed. He raised his tail blade in a salute and disappeared beyond the doors.

That was the last I saw of him.

 

I went to the bridge. It was sealed according to protocol during hostile contact. The guards laughed in my face when I offered my assistance in any capacity. I won’t repeat what else they said. Still laughing, they ordered me to the Dome with the other _arisths_.

I am not a vindictive person, and I knew they must be thinking of the warriors fighting in the battle just outside the ship. The warriors who may return scarred, or broken -- or not at all. So I restrained my temper and headed to the Dome as ordered.

I may not have been an _aristh_ , but I was still technically a part of the military, and obligated to obey.

There were _arisths_ lingering in the park when I arrived. A group of four; younger than me, full of adrenaline from watching the battle. All male, of course.

I felt their eyes on me when I entered and made a point of ignoring them. I had more important things to think about.

I began to run. Like all Andalites, my hooves were able to absorb the nutrients from the crushed grass. It was freshly grown on the ship by horticulturists, not transplanted, but if the ceiling showed red-gold sky instead of black space, I would have felt right at home.

<Hey!  _Aristh!_ >

I turned one stalk eye and spotted two of them approaching me.

Well, approaching might be too polite a term. _Swaggering_ would be more accurate.

As they got closer, I saw one was older than I thought, perhaps only one month younger than me. He had a shallow, half-healed cut from collarbone to torso. It was he who spoke to his companion first, his words dripping with scorn and contempt.

<She’s not an _aristh_ , you _shormaht_. Females aren’t allowed to be _arisths_. >

I sighed.

<What’s she doing here, then?> the other wondered.

He was younger and of slighter build. He stared at me with open curiosity--all four eyes, instead of just two. That would have earned him a reprimand from whoever his teacher was. Even _I_ knew better than to train all my concentration on the one thing.

The older _aristh_ kicked the ground with one hoof and snorted. <I don’t know, Entera. Why don’t you ask her?>

<Yes,> I said finally, unable to keep the irritation from my voice. <Why don’t you ask me?>

 _It’s not as if I can hear you_ , I added to myself. Perhaps they expected me to allow them the indulgence of treating me like an inanimate object.

<You’re not an _aristh_ , are you? > the one called Entera asked. <Females can’t be _arisths_. So what are you doing here? >

The overly familiar manner wouldn’t have bothered me if it came from my older brother or my cousins. From this stranger, however, it rankled me.

<She must be a scientist,> the other replied, still ignoring my existence. I glared at them with my main eyes. <What else do you think she does? Maintain the grass?>

That did it.

I marched up to the _arisths_. My hooves stomped  into the ground so hard they squashed blades of grass into the soil.

<If she looks after the park, she’s doing a good job of wrecking it,> Entera said in an  undertone.

<I work in biotechnology, if you _must_ know, > I said tersely. <Have you nothing better to do than pester a complete stranger?>

<Obviously not,> the older one sneered. <All of us are stuck here watching while the rest of the warriors torch some slugs.>

<So they _are_ Yeerks, > I said, half to myself.

The _aristh_ kicked the ground. <Of course they’re Yeerks. Who else would be stupid enough to attack a Dome ship?>

I heard the pride in his voice. I also heard the arrogance. I even understood it, somewhat, having just thought something similar not too long ago. I was proud of my people too. But still…

I shrugged lightly. <I don’t know. But I do know Yeerks aren’t stupid.>

The younger one, Entera, looked at me wide-eyed. He seemed uncertain, his stalk eyes turned towards the older _aristh_.

<You don’t know what you’re talking about,> the older one said. <They’re just slugs. Something we can cut in half with one blow.> He glanced at my tail blade and added, < _Some_ of us, anyway. >

<You think the battle will go in our favour, Territh?> Entera asked. His stalk eyes were turned upward now, following the bright shapes of fighters zipping around space.

<Don’t be a bonehead. Of course it will.>

Mockery and contempt from the warriors. Rudeness from the cadets. I was angry, and afraid, and I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I knew I would probably -- no, most definitely -- regret it.

I said it anyway.

< _Aristh_ Entera. > I spoke loudly enough for everyone in the park to pick up my words. <Tell me, is it procedure for _arisths_ to take insults from a shrieking _djabala?_ Or is it just you? >

Dead silence. Entera had an unfathomable expression on his face, like he wanted to either laugh or dropkick me out the nearest airlock.

Then one of the other _arisths_ snorted with laughter. Territh’s eyes narrowed.

<If you weren’t a female, I would -- >

I slapped him, tail blade flat against his chest -- not with any force and not with the intention to hurt. Just enough to make my challenge clear.

It was stupid, reckless behaviour, of course. And I would have liked to say I won. That I gave the arrogant boy a thrashing and represented myself on behalf of young females everywhere.

Sadly, it only ended when we were called back from the Dome with a broadcast that the battle had ended. And after I had fallen several times.

I got back up every time, of course. If I had been a male I would have been humiliated in front of my fellow _arisths_. Lucky for me, my ego was not deflated.

Just bruised.

 

After the announcement came the _arisths_ and I left the Dome, some of us worse off than others. Territh gave me a dirty look with his main eyes when I passed him, but it was without heat. Entera’s expression wasn’t much better. Maybe he thought I was fighting his battles for him. Whatever the case, I was too tired to bother explaining.

People were starting to trickle back through the drop shafts by the time I reached my quarters. Most were sporting minor wounds: cuts, abrasions, a minor fracture or two. That was common enough of battles fought in fighters. No-one looked my way, or wondered why I was dusty and sweating. They had their own to worry about.

Who was _my_ own? No-one. I was the only young Andalite in the science division, and the only female on the ship.

 _Perhaps if you stopped picking fights, you would have friends_ , I told myself. I was doubtful that would ever change.

The Escafil device was locked safely in the desk in my quarters. I had meant to return it to the lab before I had fallen asleep; I didn’t want Jinha to be punished on my behalf.

I had hoped to return it quietly, but all the laboratory’s doors were open when I arrived. Half the workstations and machines had been rearranged and pushed back off the benches, and the smell of burned flesh and fur assaulted my nostrils when I looked in.

A few warriors leaned against the benches as a medical officer tended to their wounds. Most looked almost bored, unbothered by their injuries. They had the most scars.

Others groaned quietly or closed their eyes, and I could see their fingers clenching into fists. I felt sorry for them.

I hadn’t paid much attention to the battle after challenging the _aristh_. I thought it had been an easy win.

Obviously I was mistaken. No victory is ever easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shormaht - dull-tail. A word of my own invention basically meaning dumbass.


	4. Chapter 3

I didn’t remember falling asleep. I knew I dragged myself back to my quarters after leaving the laboratory, and I remembered trying to shake the dust off my fur. My mind had been miles away, out in space with the warriors who had fought to keep the ship safe. I must have dozed off sometime after that.

Thankfully, this time I woke to the hum of the ship’s engines instead of the sounds of battle. The first thing my main eyes saw was my desk. I kept it clear, save for a holographic picture of my family: my mother and older brother.

Not my father. Never my father.

A wave of homesickness washed over me all of a sudden -- along with a fierce, burning desire to see my mother; to hear her voice in my head.

I opened my personal terminal and submitted a request for a two-way Z-space communication. I hadn’t used my allotted time for personal calls yet; I wasn’t sure it would work, given the battle we’d just had, but figured it was worth a try.

Several minutes passed. Then the screen flickered and a familiar face appeared.

<Mother.>

<Who is this?> my mother asked, peering at the screen. Then her eyes brightened. <Oh, Esthra! How are you? Is something wrong?>

<No, nothing is wrong,> I reassured her. <I… missed you, that’s all.>

<I miss you too, my child.>

I heard the wistfulness in her tone and felt a little pang of guilt. My mother had been the most resistant to my participation in the research project. My brother was a warrior, but he was posted on the homeworld, a journey of two or three hours from our family’s lands.

Before me, the last person my mother said farewell to at the spaceport was my father -- and he never came home. Her worry was understandable.

<How is your work?> Mother asked, and I turned my attention back to the call. <Are you allowed the freedom for your own experiments? Do you have your own laboratory?>

<You know I can’t talk about my work, Mother.>

<No,> she sighed. <We seem unable to talk of any topic these days except for war.>

I shrugged. <Besides, I’m just a junior. An _aristh_...only without the actual rank. >

We spoke back and forth a few minutes about mundane things: word from my brother, family news, the development projects she was undertaking. My mother, a structural designer, was very keen on the new spaceport that was being constructed near our scoop. My brother was driving Mag-Hover trucks and telling my mother how jealous he was that I was in space. My cousin and his wife welcomed a little one.

As my allotted time drew near I knew my mother would ask me the one question I always dreaded.

<Now,> she said, after she’d finished telling me about my new family member. <Tell me. Have you news of your father? Beyond…> She trailed off.

Beyond what rumours we heard. Beyond what horror stories are passed around.

I wished she would stop asking.

<No, Mother. I’m sorry.>

Her stalk eyes drooped slightly, and for a moment she looked tired.

My allotted time was almost up; I gestured, a symbol of love. <I must go.>

I saw her tail blade twitch, like she wanted to reach through the screen and press her blade to my forehead like she did when I was a young child.

<I love -- >

The screen went dead. Then --

_ <Esthra-Shathur-Halas, report to the briefing room.> _

My chest tightened, as if all three of my hearts stopped beating.. A summons to the briefing room could only mean one thing: I was in trouble. _Big_ trouble.

But for what?

 _Maybe it was the fight_ , I thought wildly as I sprinted from my quarters. Maybe Territh was a War-Prince’s son and someone had reported it. Maybe they’d found out I had an Escafil device in my quarters. Maybe they reviewed the security footage and discovered who accidentally dropped a specimen dish in the laboratory and stepped in the -- well, the goo.

There weren’t many people hanging around the corridor anymore. I figured most were either in the medical bay or their quarters, sleeping off the fight. I passed Jinha’s quarters as I ran and noticed the doors were shut tight. I wondered when he had returned.

I hoped he hadn’t been summoned, too. That would be particularly humiliating.

The briefing room was adjacent to the ship’s bridge. I had never been to the bridge, of course; juniors like me would never be allowed to even set foot in its grass. But, I knew where the briefing room was. I’d studied the ship’s schematics enough.

An Andalite warrior awaited me when I arrived at the room -- and by ‘arrived’ I mean skidded around the corridor so hard my hooves scrabbled on the floor.

<In,> he snapped, evidently displeased. <You are late.>

Despite my anxiety I nearly rolled my eyes. Evidently I now had to know of summons before they even happened in order to be considered on time.

Two Andalites stood in the room in front of one holographic screen. They turned their stalk eyes towards me as I entered. Neither looked impressed.

<I apologize,> I began. <I had only just received-- >

<When you are given a summons, I expect you to answer immediately,> one said. He was young; older than me, but not yet in the prime of his life. He wore power cells but no shredder holster, and he looked like he had just come from the battle.

<Come, there’s no need to frighten the girl,> the other Andalite said. <You are Esthra-Shathur-Halas, I presume.>

<Yes, sir.>

<I am Samilin-Corrath-Gahar, the ship’s tactical officer. This is Prince Ilinix-Langor-Darrath, military intelligence.>

I  must admit at this point I was confused. A T.O I expected to see at a disciplinary hearing. An intelligence officer, however, I had not.

Samilin straightened his shoulders. <I regret to inform you that your superior, Jinha-Esth-Sirinial, was killed earlier in direct action against a small contingent of Yeerk forces.>

The T.O. said something else but my mind had retreated, overwhelmed by shock, and I heard nothing further.

Jinha, dead? It couldn’t be! I had just seen him only hours before. I still had work to show him..

It is difficult to realize the people you admire are as mortal as everyone else. My chest ached with terrible sadness, and I suddenly, desperately wanted to be alone. But both Samilin and Ilinix were looking at me, waiting, and I knew what they expected me to say.

<He died in the service of his people,> I said woodenly, reciting the ritual words, <defending freedom. Please pass my condolences to his family.>

<We did not summon you here for condolences,> Ilinix said impatiently, now that formalities were out of the way. <Orders have come from the War Council. Your science division is to cease operations effective immediately.>

I blinked at him. <Sir?>

<This ship is going to war,> The T.O. explained. <All available technicians will serve in capacity as warriors. They have their orders already. You, on the other hand…>

<I am no warrior.>

Ilinix gave me a disapproving look. <That much is clear. Typically, _arisths_ do not speak until spoken to. >

<With all due respect, I am also no _aristh_. >

Samilin raised a hand, cutting Ilinix off as he began to respond.

<The captain has granted you the rank of _aristh_ , as you cannot serve in your previous capacity -- nor can you be returned home given our position and current assignment.>

My head swirled with questions, none of which I voiced. You simply didn’t demand answers of your superiors.

I did want to serve; but I didn’t know _how_ they wanted me to serve.

<I am honoured,> I said eventually, and performed a traditional bow. <I am at your disposal.>

The intelligence officer seemed satisfied with my answer. <Good. Jinha was a scientist, a warrior, but also under contract from Intelligence for an assignment. One for which he has named you as his exponent.>

I tried to think of how to respond, but words failed me. For Jinha to name me to take the mission in his place was...unexpected, at the very least.

The T.O.’s main eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. It appeared this was the first he was hearing of it too.

<You will acquire the morphing technology, if you do not have it already,> Ilinix continued, either oblivious to or uncaring of the T.O.’s reaction. <Report to Docking Bay Twelve in two hours. There you will be briefed. Do you understand?>

I don’t remember much after that. I know the intelligence officer told me to return to my quarters and prepare myself. I remember the T.O. looking angry, or unhappy, or both. My thoughts swirled, the second shock of the evening once again rendering me in a daze.

The next thing I remember is finding myself in the laboratory. It was empty this time, with only the faint smell of disinfectant to remind me of its recent use. I retrieved the Escafil device from my storage compartment and gave myself the morphing technology as instructed. Then I returned to my quarters, locked myself in, and stared at the wall. I was exhausted, but unable to rest.

In only a few hours my entire world had been turned upside down. I had thought my career was assured, my future certain. I had made plans on that certainty, and none of those plans were anything like this.

Even so, I should have been pleased. No female had ever been granted the rank of _aristh_ before, and no Andalite had ever been granted the rank of _aristh_ without attending the academy. My mentor, a brilliant scientist, had volunteered me for an assignment most _arisths_ would kill for. He had believed in me.

I _should_ have been proud.

All I felt was empty.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning -- emetophobia

I hadn’t been down to the docking bays since I first arrived on the ship months before, but I remembered the route well enough. My body moved on its own, hooves clopping gently against the metal floor. My mind raced, trying to put together what I had been told.

It wasn’t much: Prince Ilinix had given me a data disc to peruse before I left the briefing room. All it contained were orders to report to Docking Bay Twelve… which I had already been ordered to do by Prince Ilinix.

Obviously, we were going somewhere. But where? He  told me to use the Escafil device, so I would likely be morphing, but I doubted they would send me into battle; _arisths_ did not fight.

None of the questions I pondered had straight answers. Perhaps Jinha had already been briefed and had no need of a reminder.

That, of course, didn’t really help me.

Bay Twelve was under guard when I arrived, which was unusual. One bored-looking warrior slouched beside the door panel. When I turned the corner he gave me a sweeping glance. I saw his tail slowly rise over his back until the blade rested above his shoulder.

<Identification.>

I allowed my eyes to be scanned. Satisfied with the results, the guard turned and entered the access code into the door panel, then gestured for me to step aside as the bay door began to open with a rush of air.

Even at a glance, I knew instantly the ship docked in Bay Twelve was no Andalite vessel.

My first thought was it resembled the primary life phase of a Skrit Na. It had a rounded bridge swept forward to an apex and two stubby wings, from which long, thin cylinders protruded.

It was an ugly design, in truth, and one I had only seen in holographic pictures. Up close it was much larger than I expected.

<Do you know what this is, _aristh?_ >

An Andalite warrior emerged from the ship’s belly. His hands were smudged with dirt and engine grease; he too had a shredder holster strapped to his torso.

<Yes,> I replied. <It is a Bug fighter. A Yeerk spacecraft.>

<I see some of you pay attention in school, eh?> the warrior said, leaping lightly from the entrance ramp. <Let me guess. You have a message from Jinha telling me he’s going to be late. Well, let’s hear it. The old reprobate always liked to talk.>

I inhaled sharply, unsure for a minute if he was trying to trip me up.

<Well, _aristh?_ I’m waiting. >

I couldn’t stop myself from fidgeting. <Jinha is dead, sir. I am here in his place.>

The look of shock and grief on the warrior’s face told me his surprise was genuine. He took a few steps back, his stalk eyes drooping.

<Did he die well?> he asked after a pause, the voice in my head tinged with sorrow.

<He died in the service of his people, defending freedom.> I couldn’t bring myself to make it sound sincere.

<That is all any warrior can hope for.> He lapsed into silence for a moment, his main eyes transfixed my face. He was studying me. Appraising me.

Then he sighed. <You were chosen in his place, you say?>

<Yes.>

<Hm. Well, they do say females are better at morphing. What is your name?>

<Esthra-Shathur-Halas.>

He paused, just for a split second,  but it was enough for his expression to show. He knew. He knew who I was.

<I am Jarrel-Toraak-Elash. Have you been briefed?> He acted nonchalant, but it was too late to hide the recognition that had flitted across his face seconds before.

When I shook my head, he grunted in disapproval.

<For a military branch dedicated to intelligence, they have little common sense...sending an untrained _aristh_ on a vital mission like this.>

He gestured for me to follow him up the ramp and into the ship. <Come. We are ready to leave.>

The most awful stench hit me like a slap in the face as soon as I entered. My stomach churned wildly and for a moment I was afraid I might faint or retch… or both.

<Taxxons stink even worse when they die,> Jarrel said. There was no lightness in his tone anymore.

I followed him through the docking port into the main corridor. The smell was unbearable; I had to force myself not to cover my nostrils. Then, Jarrel opened the bridge door, and I walked into a scene I would never forget as long as I lived.

The bridge was not large. From what I knew of Bug fighters, they were crewed by no more than one Hork-Bajir and one Taxxon. And sure enough, the Hork-Bajir was bound and shackled and lying unconscious with its body folded up near the wall.

The Taxxon was _on_ the wall.

And the ceiling.

And on the floor.

<Ohhh,> I groaned.

Jarrel stepped onto the bridge, gingerly avoiding the gore.

<Orders came from the War Council two days ago,> he explained. <There is a Yeerk facility not far from our location in Sector Four, YD-Four-Two-Two. The facility is in orbit just behind the system’s eighth planet, concealed from sensors by a belt of asteroids and dwarf planets. This fighter was en route to return.>

<Was that why we had the battle?> I asked.

Jarrel must have heard the quaver in my thought-speak; he turned a stalk eye towards me sharply. < _Aristh_ Esthra, if you faint you will fall in the Taxxon, and trust me: you will feel much worse.>

I closed my eyes and fought back the wave of nausea that followed.

< _Aristh_ , look at me.>

I opened my eyes reluctantly.

<A warrior cannot be brave all the time,> Jarrel said, <but he must be even more so when he is afraid. When you are done -- when I do not have need of you -- then you may swoon and retch to your hearts’ content. But not yet. Not yet. Am I clear?>

I pulled in a breath and fought the sickness, forced my senses to adjust.

<Yes, sir.>

He was right. I couldn’t fall apart now. Jinha had volunteered me for this task, he must have known I would be strong enough.

I stepped up to the weapons station and turned my full gaze towards Jarrel, who pulled up the ship’s computer screen and began to press it.

<A physical interface,> I observed. <Slightly out of date.>

Jarrel shook his head. <Remember, these fighters are piloted by Hork-Bajir, who have spoken language. They would have no use for a psychotronic computer.>

The ship came alive. I could feel the artificial gravity initiate and stabilize, the floor vibrating under my legs.

Seconds later, the outer docking bay door opened, revealing black space. Jarrel leaned his upper body over the bolted structure and guided the fighter free of the ship. Windows on either side of the bridge opened, allowing us a greater view of outside. Not that there was much to see.

_FWOOOOOSH!_

I staggered and nearly fell as the fighter accelerated. Then suddenly, the blackness of space disappeared, replaced with the blank whiteness of Z-space.

<Mind the acceleration,> Jarrel said. I wanted to roll my eyes in response, but he was watching me.

Bug fighters were small spacecraft designed only for combat and short trips. Most of the available space was taken up by engines, Dracon cannon and the bridge, which was cramped for two Andalites.

The pilot’s controls were obviously designed for Hork-Bajir. There was a concave structure bolted to the floor in front of it, almost like a shallow vessel. The weapons station was meant for the Taxxon to use, evidenced by the controls made for Taxxon hands -- or what passed for hands, anyway.

Jarrel set the fighter to autopilot and relaxed back into his normal posture, grimacing.

<As you can see, the Taxxon did not survive the impact of disabling the fighter,> he said. <But I have a Taxxon morph.>

<How did you -- >

<You do not want to know.> He said it blandly, and I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. <It’s your lucky day, _aristh_. You get to be the Hork-Bajir. >

My stalk eyes went to the monstrous creature crumpled against the wall.

I knew from school that Hork-Bajir were gentle, peaceful creatures despite their fearsome appearance. They had been taken by the Yeerks and enslaved -- every single one of them.

Up close they were fierce. This one had two blades raked forward on its forehead, dark green skin, massive taloned feet.

I would have to touch it to acquire its DNA. I had a sudden image of the creature breaking out of its shackles; its blade flashing, its taloned feet ripping a gash in my--

 _Don’t be a coward,_ I told myself.

The Hork-Bajir was unconscious and unharmed save for an obvious shredder burn on its arm. I placed my fingers on its leg, well away from its blades, and concentrated. I imagined the morphing technology working in my body, absorbing its DNA.

Jarrel leaned down and placed his hand beside mine.

<Just in case,> he said, when I turned a questioning stalk eye towards him.

I had finished acquiring the Hork-Bajir and stepped away. Behind me, I saw Jarrel draw his shredder and adjust the setting.

<What are you doing?>

He seemed surprised by the question. <We must eliminate the Hork-Bajir and dispose of it before we arrive at the facility.> He gestured at me. <Stand back.>

<Wait!> I grabbed his arm. <You cannot just murder a sentient being in cold blood. They are peaceful creatures!>

<This _peaceful_ creature has a Yeerk in its brain,> Jarrel snapped, and jerked his arm out of my grip.

<But-- >

_Tseeew!_

The Hork-Bajir’s head lolled to one side. It was dead, shot cleanly between the eyes.

I shook; from what, I don’t know. Fear, possibly; maybe anger; perhaps some combination of both.

Murderer! Jarrel shot a defenceless creature in cold blood. A creature with a Yeerk in his head, yes, but--

<We could have saved it,> I said furiously, as he re-holstered the weapon. <We could have kept it shackled, starved the Yeerk out of its head-- !>

Jarrel laughed harshly. <You would condemn the Yeerk to a slow, painful death to save your conscience?>

I had no answer for that. I knew he was right, but I hated myself for it.

<You will practice that morph,> Jarrel said as he returned to the ship’s computer. <Dispose of the bodies. Jettison them out the airlock, then practice. We will be arriving in four hours.>

It was hard, disgusting work to clean up the remains of the Taxxon. Even more so the Hork-Bajir. If I tried hard enough the Taxxon seemed like a disjointed collection of body parts, but the Hork-Bajir had been a living, breathing creature mere moments ago. Had it been aware of its surroundings? Had it known when Jarrel pointed the shredder at it, that it was about to die?

I could have fought harder for it. I _should_ have.

When I was done I went back to the bridge and watched the blankness of Z-space rush by, feeling guilty.

Jarrel was still at the helm, combing through the computer. He turned one stalk-eye backward and observed me as I steeled myself and began to concentrate, emptying my mind of all thoughts except the Hork-Bajir’s appearance.

_Crr-unch!_

I shot upwards, as if I was being stretched by an invisible machine. My fur retracted into skin, which began to turn dark green.   
I’d watched people morph before. I always thought it was fascinating, albeit a slightly nauseating sight. Now it was happening to me.

I felt an itching sensation as my jaw began to bulge and thicken. And then I felt them: they were called teeth. Instruments for cutting and grinding food. Species with mouths had them.

I felt the mouth split the bottom half of my face, like a wound. Then my front legs began to shorten, and before I could stop myself I was falling--

_WHAM!_

I hit the floor. Jarrel chuckled.

<Very graceful, _aristh_. >

My internal organs began to rearrange themselves. All the while I could feel my tail thicken and retract. And then--

_SHWOOP! SHWOOP!_

Blades at my elbows, my wrists, my knees. Two appeared from my forehead, then darkness as my stalk eyes withdrew into my skull.

I pushed myself up on one elbow and climbed to my feet with difficulty. I had feet, not hooves! Clawed, bird-like talons. I had a bladed tail, but it was thick and used for balance. I had two eyes. Two legs, not four.

I felt the Hork-Bajir mind within my own. Simple instincts. Peaceful, with no fear. The Hork-Bajir had no need to fear in their natural environment.

With that realization came a wave of guilt. I pushed it away and took a few tottering steps. My thigh muscles bunched and shifted.

So much power. I had power in my own form too, but not so much raw strength.

<Are you finished?>

“Yes,” I said with my mouth. I twisted my tongue and ran it over my teeth, feeling their points. “Y-y-yesss-rr. Yes. I am Horrrk-Bajir.”


	6. Chapter 5

“Return to normal space in one minute,” the computer said.

I spent the four hour trip to the Yeerk facility feeling anxious and unsettled, but it not been wasted.

Nearly two hours spent in Hork-Bajir morph, walking on my two legs until I could balance myself. Using my hands. And, though it felt odd to make mouth-sounds, practicing the formation of words and phrases. Andalites communicate through thought-speak of course, as any creature lacking a mouth does. I may be biased, but it is an effective form of communication. One needs hearing and a translator to comprehend mouth-sounds, but thought-speak is universal.

The rest of the time I spent scouring the ship’s computer for every scrap of information I could find on the facility.

Jarrel had briefed me on our task shortly after I’d finished my first practice of the Hork-Bajir morph. I am sure this mission is now common knowledge, but I’ll summarize.

Just a few days prior, military intelligence received word of a series of transmissions from a previously unknown location. The transmissions were of Yeerk origin and contained mostly junk data, but relay technicians picked up an encrypted message that mentioned a project codenamed Poseidon. I am unfamiliar with the word, but any message the Yeerks saw fit to encrypt was naturally one we saw fit to investigate.

Our objective was to infiltrate the facility and directly interface with its servers, extract what data we could and return via the same way we came. That meant finding places to demorph and remorph and stealing the Bug fighter, then escaping the inevitable uproar that followed.

An incredibly dangerous mission--one meant for experienced warriors. I wondered, yet again, why Jinha had volunteered me to take his place. I was an unseasoned _aristh_. I had never even morphed before.

Jarrel pressed the transparent screen and suddenly Z-space disappeared. We were back in normal space--only this time there was a structure on the horizon.

The Yeerk facility.

<We are on an approach vector,> Jarrel said. In the viewpoint I could see the facility. <What can you tell me about it, _aristh?_ >

I moved to the screen to pull up the schematics, but he waved me back. <Do not rely solely on schematics and exodata. Tell me what you _see_. >

I was unsure what he meant, but I leaned forward and observed the station as it drew closer. The place was alive--our sensors picked up incoming and outgoing communications in a steady stream. There were crude but recognizable relays on the facility’s exterior.

<Those look like Z-space transponders, for long-range communication. Perhaps a listening post or a relay station.> I glanced at him, uncertain. <Perhaps they could be using this facility for the purpose of intercepting enemy communications.>

<Are you suggesting the Yeerks can or have been picking up our own transmissions?>

It sounded like a trick question. The idea of Yeerks being able to outwit Andalite code-breakers was insulting. And yet…

<I could not say, unless I access their databases,> I said. <But it is not out of the realms of possibility.>

Jarrel considered for a moment. Then he laughed. <You are lucky I’m a soldier and not a relay technician. Imagine telling them their codes are deficient!>

<I did not say deficient!> I replied hastily. <I just don’t think we should underestimate the Yeerks. They have survived thus far by being resourceful and adaptable. Any species must.>

The truth was the Yeerks _had_ held their own against our forces over the years since Seerow’s Kindness. They were a plague upon the galaxy, but anyone who treated them as a lesser threat by virtue of their physical inferiority was a fool.

<That is a dangerous line of thinking.> He paused, then seemed to concede the point. <But it is true. Morph the Hork-Bajir and take the pilot’s controls. You will have to land and dock manually.>

I began to morph again, all the while watching the facility grow larger and larger. There were hangars under its belly, from which an occasional Bug fighter or transport ship would emerge.

A pincer-like hand reached past my shoulder and pointed; I nearly jumped out of my skin.

<Dock in the forward hangar,> Jarrel said.

I turned my stalk eyes to look. He was in Taxxon morph; a nightmarish creature with an enormous, bloated body, globular eyes and a mouth rimmed with teeth.

<Don’t worry,> he laughed. <I’m not going to eat you.>

I was not reassured.

 

I took us off autopilot and steered the ship towards the hangar in a slow descent. I had never flown a Bug fighter before. In my training I had learned to fly an Andalite fighter, in the unlikely circumstance I would ever need to. A Bug fighter’s controls were different. Simpler, of course, but I knew the basics.

<When we arrive, we will need to be alert,> Jarrel continued. <The Yeerks know about the morphing technology, and they may be expecting some sort of attack. You have studied the schematics, yes? You know the location of the facility’s communications database.>

<Yes.>

<Good.>

A shadow passed over us as we entered the hangar, and I closed the observation panels. The sick fear was back, gnawing at my stomach.

The outer hatch opened and the ramp folded down, and in lumbered a Gedd.

“Rrrrr-manifest,” it said.

I fought the urge to stare as Jarrel handed over the manifest. Gedds were the first hosts to the Yeerks and the only ones native to their homeworld. I’d never seen one before.

The Gedd looked over the manifest, grunted and jerked its head towards the ramp. “Get going. We have rrrrr-repairs to do.”

<Remember,> Jarrel said privately. <Many Taxxons are not hosts, and Hork-Bajir Controllers are generally higher-ranking. Do not appear too deferential.>

I walked down the ramp into a hangar full of light and noise.

There were Gedds with mechanical tool belts, shambling around parked fighters. Taxxons motoring this way and that on their insectoid legs. Hork-Bajir lumbering along--even one or two Ongachic.

<What do you mean, many Taxxons are not hosts?> I asked as we made our way across the hangar. I tried to resist the urge to look around. I had to look as if I did this every day.

<Taxxons feel a constant, overwhelming urge to feed,> Jarrel explained. <I’m told many Taxxons agreed to work for the Yeerks if they were kept well fed. Some are hosts, of course, but not many. Most Yeerks would prefer even a Gedd body to overpowering hunger.>

I thought about asking him how he knew what Yeerks would prefer. I was about to let it slide. But then again, it could not hurt. <May I ask you a question?>

<You may ask,> he said. <I may not answer. Head towards those doors. There is a sign attached on the frame. Galard script. Can you see it?>

I spotted the sign and steered myself towards it. I couldn’t read Galard, but I could see the acid green writing from here.

<Have you been on undercover missions before?> I asked as we approached the doors.

<You have a Taxxon morph.>

<Very good, _aristh_. I was beginning to think you would burn up from all that curiosity. In fact, Jinha and I have worked together before. He--  >

The doors opened and I nearly ran straight into a pair of Hork-Bajir. One shoved me roughly.

“Watch where you walk, scum!”

If I hadn’t been practicing I would have fallen to the floor. Instead I tottered, my tail straightening to regain balance. I felt the fear and adrenaline flooding my Hork-Bajir system.

“You,” the Hork-Bajir Controller said to Jarrel. “Come with me. There’s a prisoner needs executing on level B.”

“He is a computer technician,” I said, cutting off Jarrel’s private thought-speak. “I’m clearing him to run a diagnostics report on our servers.”

The Hork-Bajir Controller turned his head and regarded me with slitted red eyes.

“On whose orders?”

“Visser Four ordered this before his arrival.”

For a long moment we stared each other down. I crushed the fear down into my stomach and forced myself to stand perfectly still.

After a long moment the Yeerk said, “Go.”

<That was foolish, _aristh_ ,> Jarrel said, once we had entered the facility. <You could have exposed us.> He paused, then chuckled. <Good work, though. Dropping Visser Four’s name made it convincing.>

<It wasn’t entirely a ruse. I found an announcement on the ship’s computer. He is arriving at any moment for an inspection.>

Jarrel nodded his hideous head. <Then we should hurry.>

 

I knew Yeerks had developed most of their technology from a blend of Andalite, Ongachic and Skrit Na designs, but the inside of their facility reminded me very much of my school on the homeworld, of all places. They even had a drop shaft.

<Program the shaft to level A,> Jarrel instructed, as we reached the end of the corridor. <That will take you to the top level, where the communications and database terminals are kept. I will meet you there.>

<Yes, sir.> A pause, then I realised what he’d said. <Are you not coming with me?>

<I have my own mission.>

Then came the fear and anxiety. <But…>

<I do not have time for your fear, _aristh!_ > he said angrily. <You will cross-check the Yeerk database for references to ‘Poseidon’, whatever that may be. You will initiate a link with the _SolarStorm_ and transmit your findings to Prince Ilinix. You will then report to me! Is that clear?!>

I tried not to let my humiliation show. <Yes, sir.>

The drop shaft doors opened.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW -- suicide

I had ridden in drop shafts before of course, but never as a bipedal creature. Fortunately the gravity stabilised me while the levels flashed past. Then the gravity slowed and the doors opened into a long corridor.

I knew this was level A from the schematics I’d studied on the ship. The door at the end led to an airlock through which one could access the roof. The first door on my left was armed with a security system and vacuum-sealed doors.

If the schematics were current, this would be the server room. If there was a way to access the database of this facility, this would be my most viable option.

The door was sealed tight, locked by an access panel situated on the same wall. The system was simple: you enter the correct access code and the door unlocks. I am by no means an expert in decryption, but a Yeerk security system wasn’t much of a challenge.

Even so, I hesitated.

An unsuccessful attempt at overriding the system could trigger an alarm that alerted every Controller in earshot. I would have no time to shut it down before I was discovered. And then...I shuddered. I feared capture and torture more than anything, especially at the hands of the Yeerks. Their hatred for my people was well-known.

To talk about my deepest fears is not an easy thing, especially not when our culture prizes courage and strength. But I never wanted to be a warrior. I never learned to be brave or strong. Even now the fear of discovery nearly overwhelmed me, and I had to struggle to stay focused.

 _A person who does not learn to adapt will not survive_ , I reminded myself, and began to type into the access panel.

The room was dark, save for the blinking lights of a dozen computer servers. On the far wall sat a terminal with a three-dimensional screen, glowing softly.

This was newer technology than the Bug fighters’ direct touch interface screens. It was derivative, of course, but that gave me an advantage. The closer an imitation it was to Andalite technology, the easier it would be to work with.

<Warning,> the computer intoned, as I touched the screen. <Encryption enabled.>

A thought-speak interface. Excellent. A quick “hack” to the software and I was in.

This was the most dangerous part, waiting for the computer to filter through the data. Sooner or later someone would attempt to access the room. And then what?

<And then you do your duty,> I said to myself.

Then the computer lit up.

<Match found. Search filter: Poseidon.>

A three-dimensional map filled the screen--a planet with vast oceans that covered almost all its available surface area. Almost no land mass, but the semi-transparent map showed the sea was populated with cities. An entire underwater civilisation connected by valleys and caves.

Hearts pounding, I minimized the map and pulled up the next files.

More maps. Battle plans. Tactical reports. The Yeerks were planning an invasion--but what planet was this? Where?

Then, another file caught my eye--this time a miniature 3D image of an alien. Its shape and colouring brought recognition in a sickening rush, and my blood ran cold.

Leera. The Yeerks were invading Leera.

 

For a moment my mind just reeled.

Leera! Had the Yeerks finished with the humans already? Were they expanding their forces?

I skimmed over the next files with my hearts racing. The computer pulled a progress report on a place named Royan Island on the planet Earth. The human homeworld.

It appeared the ‘Project Poseidon’ was codenamed for some sort of facility built on this Royan Island, and that the facility had a genetic engineering project in the works. I admit I did not pay much attention to this--my brain had focused on the battle plans I had seen, and my mind was overwhelmed by too much information. I still marked the files for transmission, as they were relevant, but…

Leerans were psychic; they were not allowed in Andalite space for this reason. The Yeerks could not hope to win a stealth war against them. But with their human hosts growing by the day, they might bolster their numbers enough for an invasion force.

Psychic powers in the hands of the Yeerks would be unfathomably dangerous.

< _\--risth--_ >

I jerked in surprise as Jarrel’s faint thought-speak voice appeared in my head.

< \--under attack--transmit--! Destr-- >

<Sir?>

< \--stroy faci-- >

Was I supposed to go to his aid? Should I transmit the files to the _SolarStorm_ first? I couldn’t let another Andalite fall host to a Yeerk…but if I failed to send the plans to the council, something much worse might happen.

<Sir? Jarrel?!>

Silence.

As quickly as I could, I wrote a rudimentary program to encrypt any transmission made outside of the standard communications channel. The relays I had spotted on top of the facility were basic, but with a few adjustments I could use them and a direct mind-link to send a signal to the Dome ship.

The screen flickered while I focused my thoughts, and then Prince Ilinix appeared.

< _Aristh_ ,> he said curtly. <Report.>

I suddenly wished I’d calmed myself down beforehand; I knew I looked wild and panicky.

<Prince Ilinix. We landed at the facility and infiltrated successfully. I established access to the facility’s databases-- >

<Where is Jarrel?>

<On his own mission. He is still engaged.> I took a deep breath. <Sir, you have to see this. Leera-- the Yeerks are invading Leera.>

That got the older Andalite’s attention. He leaned forward, main eyes wide. <What?!>

<I found battle plans. Maps. Strategic Reports.>

<You must be mistaken,> Ilinix said, though he sounded unconvinced. <The Leerans are psychic. No Yeerk force could-- >

<Yes, they can!> I said, cutting him off. <With human hosts. _That is their plan_. I do not have time to explain. Please stand by for data transmission. >

<Did-- >

The screen went dead.

<Remote emergency shutdown,> the computer informed me, then powered down with a low hum.

If I could make mouth-sounds I would have screamed in frustration. Instead I gave the nearest structure a kick with my back hoof.

_Bang! Bang!_

Someone was at the outer door! I whirled around and backed against the terminal, but there was no time.

_WHUMPF!_

The door burst open in a shower of sparks, and a Hork-Bajir shouldered its way in.

“Lafach...smoke,” he muttered. He hadn’t seen me yet...but as I brought my tail up and skittered forward, the serpentine head swung around. We locked eyes. Then--

“Andalite!” he bellowed, and raised his Dracon beam.

_Fwapp! Fwapp!_

I struck! My tail blade carved a shallow cut in his chest with one blow! The second landed on his wrist and he dropped the weapon.

_“Andalite!”_

He lunged. I dodged--barely--and hit him with a sideswipe. The Hork-Bajir stumbled, caught off balance, and I struck him in the head with the flat side of the blade so hard the vibration rattled through my legs.

The Hork-Bajir dropped like a stone, his bladed wrist within inches of tearing a gash in my arm.

For a moment I just breathed, in and out. I wanted to run screaming as far away from this place as I could; the urge was powerful enough that I had to clench my fists tight.

I had to find Jarrel. I also had to find the emergency shutdown and override it, if I had any hope of sending those files to Prince Ilinix. Meanwhile the Hork-Bajir I’d knocked out was still alive.

I picked up the Dracon beam, switched it to a higher setting and aimed. Then…

Lowered the weapon.

I couldn’t do it. Was I a coward? Irresponsible? Selfish. Perhaps. I was prepared to do what was necessary to send those files...but even so, I couldn’t murder an unconscious enemy.

Not even a Yeerk.

 

Ten minutes later I took the drop shaft down to level C in Hork-Bajir morph. The place was in chaos. Evidently the Yeerks had been alerted to our presence somehow, which had likely triggered the remote shutdown.

And then I saw him. Standing in the middle of the corridor, just outside a room that appeared to be some sort of laboratory.

Andalite form. Surrounded by Hork-Bajir and Taxxons. Pointing a Dracon beam at a single alien whose appearance I’d only just seen on the Yeerks’ database.

It wasn’t tall. Its skin was a bright yellow and appeared textured. It had four tentactular appendages instead of arms, and powerful back legs.

A Leeran!

I froze, despite being jostled by other Hork-Bajir rushing to surround Jarrel. How far did the Leerans’ psychic powers project? Would it know who and what I was?

As I stood uncertain, the Leeran seemed to shudder. Then it turned around and looked at me. It looked right at me!

I saw it in slow motion. Jarrel surrounded, brandishing the Dracon beam, realising there was no hope. Pressing the barrel to his temple and--

_Tseeew!_

Falling to the floor lifeless. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. I could only shake.

The Leeran-Controller--for it was obviously a host--gesticulated, its psychic “voice” echoing in my head. Hork-Bajir turning, roaring, rushing towards me.

I still had a Dracon beam. I lifted it. I aimed.

I don’t know if I fired. I don’t know if I hit anything. All I remembered next was the weapon falling from my hand as a Hork-Bajir barrelled into me. Whirling blades and pain, then--darkness.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture & suicide mention.

I awoke lying sprawled on some sort of metal surface, hard and cold.

For one second I thought I was somehow back on the _SolarStorm_ ; that I had been dreaming. Then I remembered.

I moved a hand and opened my eyes. Leathery skin and blades. I was in Hork-Bajir morph.

Panic set in. How long had I been in morph? Where was I?

I scrambled to my feet and began to demorph. I could have cried from sheer relief as the blades and talons melted away. I felt more secure in my own body. Clear-headed enough to think about my next move.

The prison was some sort of cube made out of what seemed to be a metal alloy. There was enough room for me to turn around, but just barely.

I didn’t like small spaces. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I tried to demorph in a space too small for me. But of course--the Yeerks would want me to demorph. They would want me in my natural form.

I shuddered. The thought was disturbing and frightening, but I pushed it out of my mind and returned to the task at hand. The cube itself was seamless, but metal was not impossible for me to cut. If I could destroy enough of one wall I could morph Hork-Bajir again. Find the emergency shutdown, destroy the facility. Steal a Bug fighter and escape.

Solid plan. I just had to survive.

I shifted my weight, aimed--

Fwapp!

_ZZZAAAAPPP!_

<Aaaahhhhhh!>

A jolt of energy surged through my body. My knees buckled and I fell, stunned senseless.

Force field. Stupid! I should have known better.

The wall nearest to me became transparent. My prison was situated within a larger room; plain, with no furniture or machines but a computer terminal against the wall. And...

"Ah, the Andalite awakens!"

The creature stood on two legs ending in colourful, bulky hooves. It possessed two arms ending in ten-fingered hands. Its head was large for its body with two small eyes, a protrusion in the centre of its face and a mouth rimmed with pink-red flesh. Its skin was pink in some places, coloured and loose in others. It had brown fur on its head.

No tail for balance. No tentacles or blades or poison sacs. No weapons of any kind as far as I could see.

For a moment I just stared. I'd never seen a creature so odd and utterly _alien_.

"What's the matter, Andalite?" the creature said mockingly. My implant kicked in and began to translate its mouth-sounds. "Never seen a human before?"

<No,> I said truthfully. <But you are a Yeerk.>

The human's mouth twisted. "You're correct, Andalite. My name is Essak-Two-Four-Two. I'm more commonly known as Sub-Visser Thirty-seven. My human host’s name is Scott. Take your pick."

<I do not care what your name is. I have nothing to say to you.>

The Yeerk laughed; a harsh, barking sound. "Oh, but you do."

He paced back and forth slowly, drawing out the silence. I was suddenly struck by how easily the body moved--perfectly balanced, even for a bipedal creature without a tail.

I knew what he was trying to do, and I was frightened. The kind of terror a child might feel when confronted by the monsters of their darkest nightmares.

“You’re going to tell me every secret hidden in that Andalite mind of yours.”

The sub-visser pressed a button on the terminal and I felt the low hum of a machine powering down. “Let me turn off that force field. We can’t have you kill yourself before you’ve told me the purpose of your presence here, can we?”

<Why don’t you go and get the Leeran?> I said, with a bravery I didn’t really feel. <Why waste time?>

“Indeed,” the Yeerk said, twisting his mouth into a sneer. “The Leeran’s powers would be enough to extract every thought in your head. But you see, you killed the only Leeran host on this station...so I’m afraid your suffering will have to do instead.”

My mind began to race.

I still possessed control of my body, which meant they hadn't infested me. They were going to interrogate me, which meant torture. But why? Infesting me in my unconscious state would have been easy. I had been utterly vulnerable.

"Wondering why we don't simply make you one of ours?" Sub-Visser Thirty-seven said, as if he were reading my mind. "It's very simple. Your Andalite body is valuable. My superior will be given the honour of infesting you himself, and has ordered you to remain as is...for now.”

The Yeerk must have noticed my breathing quicken, for he sneered. “Did you think we would dispose of you so readily, Andalite? No, you will be the second of your kind to become a host. And in the meantime, there is no reason why I cannot...press you for information.”

He moved to the computer.

“You _will_ talk, Andalite.”

There was no warning, no sudden jolt of energy. Suddenly my very tissues were on fire! I was burning alive!

<Aaaaahhhhh!>

The pain was beyond description. My legs jerked and twitched, sending waves of pain through my body. My insides churned. My muscles cramped and spasmed, and I crashed to my knees.

Then it was over. I breathed harshly, on my knees, with my body twitching from the aftershock.

"I should have elaborated," the Yeerk said. "You will talk, or you will suffer. What you just experienced is a Dracon beam set on low power. There are emitters built into your prison. It is an excruciating pain, I’m told."

This was no news to me. I fought to keep the pain in check and, inexplicably, the helpless rage that came with it.

"You're on your own, Andalite," Sub-Visser Thirty-seven said. "No-one to save you.”

I laughed, albeit shakily. <I suppose you expect me to give in and accept defeat then, Yeerk.>

The Sub-Visser moved closer to the wall. His face twisted into an expression I assumed was anger. And something else. Fear?

Of course. Fear for himself. Fear of Visser Four. Fear even of Visser Three.

<Are you afraid?> I mocked him. <I hear your Vissers do not tolerate failure very well.>

“This is nothing compared to the pain Visser Four would inflict on you!”

He flicked the switch.

<Aaaaaahhhh!>

I knew I was on the floor again. Nothing much else made sense. My vision was blurry and distorted and tinged with blue as blood vessels burst in my eyes. My muscles twitched uncontrollably.

The pain stopped. My immediate instinct was to stand and meet it with dignity, but all I could do was lie there and breathe.

The sub-visser laughed. "One of the all-mighty Andalites lying on the floor like a sick horse."

I didn't know what a _horse_ was, but I guessed it was some sort of Earth animal. I felt the first, slight sting of wounded pride.

It shames me, but I wanted to say, <I’m not a powerful Andalite! I’m not even a warrior! I’m just a child. An _aristh_. I’m not even supposed to be here. >

I wasn’t supposed to be chosen for this.

_Why? Why, Jinha? Why would you choose me for this?_

“We all do things we’re ordered to, Andalite,” the Yeerk said, his mouth-sounds distorted. “None of us are truly free.”

Had the thoughts left my head? Had the Yeerk responded, or was it all in my imagination? I couldn’t be sure. The pain clouded all of my senses, took up all of my focus.

Slowly I climbed to my hooves. My legs cramped and shook. I had to lean one arm against the wall for support.

But still I stood--and I saw rage flash across the sub-visser’s face.

<I-- > my head pounded with blinding pain. I gathered myself and tried again. <I will not--I will not. I will not.>

For a moment the sub-visser glared at me with pure hatred. Then he turned away and laughed.

“You are a fool,” he said. “And either way you will be ours.”

Switch on.

<Aaaaahhhhhh!>

Switch off.

The Yeerk came closer to the wall, staring at me with his small eyes. I fought the urge to squirm away from his gaze. Gasping and half-conscious, I stared him down.

“This can continue as long as I wish,” the sub-visser said in a quieter tone. “And if my superiors arrive before you co-operate, I promise you will live to regret your insolence.”

<I will not,> I repeated stupidly. My brain would not let me form the thoughts, but it clung to the defiance I had shown moments before. <No. No. No.>

Switch on.

<Aaaaaaghh!>

“Filthy Andalite!” The sub-visser screamed. “You -- will -- TALK!”

My vision turned black. A fog descended on my brain, blocking out everything but the overwhelming agony of my cells writhing, disintegrating, dying.

I fell hard, and my last thought was of home.

 

When I returned to my senses, there was silence.

No Yeerk screaming in my ears. No Yeerk sneering at me as he sent me into a world of pain.

He didn’t have to either. My body felt like it was burning from the inside out. Skin and muscles and sinew ached and protested as I climbed to my hooves.

I didn’t know how long I had been in this prison. It seemed like days, though I doubt it had been more than six or seven hours. I was hungry and thirsty, among other needs. I doubted the Yeerks would accommodate those. I was also alone, with no possibility of escape, on my way to becoming the second ever Andalite-Controller.

My prison was completely transparent now, and I could see the entirety of the room. Sub-Visser Thirty-seven was gone. In his place were two Hork-Bajir guarding the door to the room.

Two full-grown Hork-Bajir, each with a Yeerk in its head. More than a match for me.

Suddenly, a loud bang on the door! The guards scrambled to open it, almost tripping over themselves in their haste.

Sub-Visser Thirty-seven again.

I began to feel a sick fear in the pit of my stomach. My legs motored backwards until I hit the far wall. My chest began to hurt as I drew heaving breaths through my nose.

I would like to say I was brave and prepared to meet my fate with my head held high, but the previous torture had taken the last of my courage. The fear and urge to run was overpowering, and the relatively small prison didn’t help.

The doors opened inwardly. It was not Sub-Visser Thirty-seven. It was an Andalite who came swaggering into the room, flanked by half a dozen Hork-Bajir guards. The sight of him filled me with a terror that made my previous fear seem miniscule in comparison.

See, I knew this Andalite. What he was. _Who_ he was.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for suicide & torture

<A female,> Visser Three said. He approached the prison wall, staring at me with all four eyes. <Interesting. I thought the Andalite military was entirely male.>

Without thinking I said, <Your host body has a name.>

The darkness that radiated from him was almost palpable. I fought to keep my composure as he stared me down. Visser Three was hated and feared among my people, called the Abomination. He had a reputation for cruelty known across the galaxy.

Sub-Visser Thirty-seven’s torture was nothing compared to what the Visser would do to me. I knew with absolute certainty that I would beg for death.

 

I closed my main eyes as the memory rose in my mind. It had been so long...at the spaceport, on the way to the hangar bays. He was leaving; he’d been posted to the Dome ship _StarSword_.

My mother was upset. My mother was always upset when he left. I was too young to understand, of course. All I knew was my father was going on an adventure, and I thought it was so exciting.

I’d said, <One day I will come and visit you on the Dome ship, and you can show me the stars.>

He’d laughed, arched his tail over his back and bent his knees, so I could touch his great scythe with my stubby little blade.

That was the last time I ever saw him, but I remembered the way his eyes smiled.

 

<Hah-hah-hah! See how she fears me! Is this what Andalites send to fight their wars for them? Untrained female children?>

The Yeerks in the room laughed with the Visser. My fear became sharp with the sting of humiliation and anger.

The Visser went to the terminal set up in the corner of the room. His fingers hovered inches away from the terminal.

<Unfortunately for you, girl, I am not as soft as my sub-ordinates.>

I began to tremble.

No, no, no. I couldn’t take any more of that horrendous pain. I had to keep him distracted. But how? I was out of options. Two Hork-Bajir guards I may have a slight chance of outsmarting, but an entire room of them was more than I could handle.

<You are filth!> I spat, and clenched my fists to stop the shaking. <You will get nothing from me.>

The visser laughed. <Pointless words, brave young warrior.>

I had no choice. I could not let them take me alive.

<Tell me, Visser.> I raised my tail and pressed the blade to my throat. <Can you make a host from a corpse?>

Visser Three froze. The Hork-Bajir froze. For a long moment nobody moved. I don’t think they even breathed.

I breathed, feeling the sharp edge of my own blade press and separate the fur and delicate layer of skin. My pulse pounded in my neck, and the blood ran down the blade in trickles of blue. There was pain, but it was nothing compared to what I’d just endured.

I had to do it quick and hard. Hopefully I would not linger.

<My name is Esthra-Shathur-Halas,> I told the visser. <Ask your host who I am, Yeerk. Ask him if he knows my face. Ask him if he knows my name. Ask him if he recognizes his daughter.>

The visser’s face darkened with rage -- then just as suddenly, changed to a desperate, horrified expression.

<NOOOOO! NO!>

He moved erratically, arms jerking, hooves slamming against the floor. I nearly cut myself deeper from sheer surprise--what was he doing? Was this some trick?

Then I realized--it was _him_.

It was my father! Not the filthy Yeerk, but the real Alloran. He’d struck when Visser Three was distracted. He was fighting to gain control again--because of me.

He had not forgotten me.

Alloran’s tail lashed out, striking a Hork-Bajir in the arm. His hand reached out to the wall, to mine, then slackened.

<N--n--no--no-- >

His cries became grunts. Visser Three, the Yeerk, was gaining control.

<Hah-hah-hah-hah!> he said as my shoulders slumped. <My host’s child! What coincidence is this?>

Tseeeew! Tseeew!

The visser’s stalk eyes whipped around, and so did mine. I recognised that sound--it was shredder fire!

The Andalites were here. My people had come to save me.

<What is going on out there?!> the visser roared. Then one of the Hork-Bajir guards to his left struck.

It is very difficult to perform a sneak attack on an Andalite, even an Andalite with a Yeerk in its head. The visser dodged, and the Hork-Bajir’s blades sliced a gash in his side. Not a fatal wound.

<Aaargh!>

The door burst open and two Andalites came charging through, shredders raised.

Tseew! Tseew!

Two more Hork-Bajir guards down! A third began to shift and change, sprouting blue fur. They drove the Visser back with their tails whipping so fast they cracked the air.

I didn’t see what happened to him. The battle spilled from the room and into the corridor, and only one Andalite remained behind. He went to the control panel and pressed a switch--then suddenly the walls disappeared, and I was free.

I took a few steps forward, staggered, and nearly fell. Every cell in my body ached and burned. I’d never been shot with a Dracon beam in my life, but I knew it was modelled on Andalite technology. Modified to cause more pain.

I could testify to that particular feature.

The warrior helped me stand, then handed me a shredder.

<My name is Alifgar-Rinion-Sitan,> he said. <Can you run? Can you fight?>

<Yes, and yes. Thank you.>

<Good,> Alifgar said shortly. <Let’s go, young one. We’re to meet Erlin’s team at a rendezvous point. Then we’re headed back to the ship.>

“Andalite!”

Two Hork-Bajir crowded into the room, blades flashing. I spun the shredder to full power and fired. One Hork-Bajir evaporated with a crackle of energy, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

His companion looked around, horrified, and Alifgar’s tail blade whipped. The Hork-Bajir continued to look, but his head was no longer attached to his body.

<Turn that shredder down!> Alifgar snapped. <Do you want to blow a hole in the hull? Now, let’s go! Move!>

<What about the files?>

<What?!>

<The files. I was to transmit classified data to Prince Ilinix-Langor-Darrath. Military intelligence.> When his eyes narrowed I added, <My...commander, Jarrel, is dead. There is no-one else to complete this task.>

Alifgar let out a curse, then glanced around with his stalk eyes.

<We do not have time for this,> he muttered. <My orders were to extract you and your superior, no questions asked. Instead you tell me your prince is dead and you need access to a computer!>

<I promise you this is important,> I pleaded. <I should be able to do it from this terminal. Just a few minutes. Please.>

Alifgar was not happy. I did not blame him. But he stood guard at the door while I opened another mind-link to the _SolarStorm_ and accessed the database.

I did not wait to see if Ilinix had received them. I had seen them, and if I survived--then this mission may not have been for nothing.

* * *

The rendezvous point was the hangar bay, where two Andalite fighters had landed. The place was crawling with Hork-Bajir, Taxxons, and some human Controllers.

We had to fight through many. Alifgar was a trained warrior with a tail blade and a shredder at his disposal, but he could not protect me from every blow. I was an untrained tail fighter, and my body was starting to fail me. I was exhausted; bleeding from several wounds and aching from the torture.

Fwapp!

I blocked a Hork-Bajir’s blow with my tail. Another moved towards me, and I shot him in the face.

They closed in. We were driven back, tails whipping, firing our shredders. Hork-Bajir were falling, but it couldn’t last.

BOOM!

One of the Andalite fighters drove itself into the ground. Flames burst from its engine. I had to fight to keep myself from stumbling as the shockwave hit me.

One fighter destroyed! How were we going to fit in just one?

Then--

Tseew! Tseew!

Shredder fire. Erlin’s team! They’d reached the rendezvous point.

The warriors leaped immediately into battle. It was madness! There was blood everywhere; blue and green and red. The air rang with screams of pain; my head with thought-speak cries.

Then it was over. I stood in the midst of the carnage, staring blankly at the body of Alifgar as his fellow warriors lifted him.

The first wave of guilt rose in me, receded, then began to bubble in my stomach. I felt nauseous.

I did not pity the dead Yeerks. They had attacked me. But for the Hork-Bajir who had no choice but to fight and kill? The humans who lost their lives? I could feel for them, as I felt for the people who died so I could live.

<Take the Bug fighter,> Erlin shouted at one of his warriors. Blood ran down his head where a Hork-Bajir had gashed him. He looked at me; it was not a kind look. <You! Get on our fighter! _Now!_ >

Slowly I began to make my way to the Andalite ship. My legs felt watery, as if any moment they would simply fold beneath me.

One of Erlin’s warriors helped me up the ramp, despite their own injuries. Others were assisting the more seriously wounded, and collecting the bodies of the fallen. They would be taken back to the homeworld in honour for having fought a brave battle. Some would leave spouses and children behind. They’d died fighting Yeerks, the people would say, and their deaths would not be in vain.

No, not in vain. But they’d died because of me.


	10. Chapter 9

I don’t remember the trip back to the _SolarStorm_. I think I slept; I was beyond exhausted, sick at hearts and wracked with guilt.

Jarrel was dead. Alifgar was dead. Two of Erlin’s warriors were dead. They had died rescuing me because I was foolish enough to be captured. Now the facility was no more than debris; the Andalite fighters had destroyed its reactor and set off an explosion big enough to kill every living thing in the place. There wasn’t even enough left of Jarrel to send home. Did he have a spouse? Children? I had hardly known anything about him.

That made it worse.

I had never been in a proper Andalite fighter before, either, and any other circumstance I would have enjoyed the opportunity to learn about it. But I couldn’t even bring myself to speak to the other warriors who had risked their lives to save me. So I stared at the hull, drifting in and out of consciousness, and they left me alone. Perhaps they understood the terrible emotions eating away at my insides.

Once we returned to the ship I could no longer escape into sleep. I was taken to the medical bay along with the injured warriors. They were seen first. Then it was my turn.

The ship’s physician took me into a private room off the sick bay. His name was Doctor Adarin-Saytul-Esgarrouth. He had kind eyes, and spoke to me without the harshness I’d come to expect from the other officers. He must have found my lack of response frustrating, but I allowed myself to be examined without protest. The wounds I’d sustained in the battle were easily treated. I was too exhausted to morph, but I would survive. And...some part of me wanted to keep hurting.

I don’t know why. After such a long time with that pain and weariness it felt almost familiar, and perhaps...it was my punishment for living when others had not. My burden to bear.

<Doctor?> said a thought-speak voice from outside the room, and I jumped.

<It’s alright,> the doctor said to me. <Yes, come in.>

The door slid open and Erlin entered. Now I had time to see him properly, I noticed a terrible scar that ran diagonally across his chest. Hork-Bajir blade. The gash on his head had been treated with medical gel.

<Erlin-Bredur-Orill. The captain sent me to report on the _aristh’s_ condition.> He looked at me, and I dropped my gaze. <How are you feeling, youngster?>

<Fine, sir,> I said dully.

<Good. Can’t have our _arisths_ getting injured on the battlefield, can we? What’s the damage, Doc?>

Doctor Adarin gave me an appraising look.

<Outwardly her injuries are not severe,> he said. <Lacerations, minor fractures. My scans, however, showed significant intra-cellular damage.>

Both Andalites looked at me questioningly. I did not meet their gaze.

<Cause?> Erlin said finally.

<Most likely Dracon beam,> the doctor replied. He was still looking at me. <The damage is not localized, as it would be from a shot. It is widespread. Consistent with Yeerk interrogation techniques.>

There was a pause.

< _Aristh?_ >

I looked at the floor with all four eyes. Blinked. <I was being interrogated when Alifgar’s team came to my rescue, sir.>

Silence. Adarin and Erlin both looked at me.

<Why did you not mention this before, _aristh?_ >

I couldn't do anything but burn with humiliation. I kept my face lowered and my stalk eyes on Erlin, who looked disturbed.

<Explain to me what happened,> he said.

I gave my report of the mission including Jarrel’s death, the presence of the Leeran, my capture and Visser Three’s appearance. I did not talk about what I had found in the facility’s database.

Both Andalites listened without interrupting. Their long silences were beginning to make me nervous.

When I had finished they exchanged long looks. Likely they were speaking privately. I didn’t really care.

<I will report back to the captain,> Erlin said heavily. <He will decide what the next step is.>

He left hurriedly. The doctor turned to look at me with his main eyes.

<Well, that would explain the cellular damage,> he said half to himself.

 

The doctor left shortly after, though not before ordering me to ‘stay put and rest’. A formality--he had locked the room behind him.

Through the fog of despair I began to wonder what would happen to me. An exercise in futility, of course--I barely knew what had happened to me. Had I succeeded in my task? Had I failed? Nothing in the mission brief accounted for keeping your commander alive.

And what of Jarrel’s mission? Had I been expected to carry it out too?

Too many questions. I was far, far out of my depth.

I’m not sure how much time passed. Eventually the doctor returned with Erlin and another, older Andalite in tow.

<I am Fornul-Teherash-Breyar, captain of this ship,> the other Andalite said. I did my best to stand to attention, but he waved away my salute impatiently. <I’ve been briefed on your mission. Is what you told Erlin true?>

<Yes, sir.>

The captain looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. Then he turned to Doctor Adarin. <Give me your recommendations.>

Adarin looked hesitant. <This female has been through a great deal. I would not-->

<I will answer any questions to the best of my ability,> I interrupted.

Erlin gave me this kind of horrified look. It wasn’t protocol to interrupt superior officers; among the more traditional princes it was something you could receive an official reprimand for. But I wasn’t a warrior, and I was tired of being treated like a delicate thing. I didn’t deserve it.

The captain looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. For a moment I thought he was going to yell at me. But he just looked amused.

<It seems she is fine enough,> he said, not unkindly. <Some things are too important to wait. Doctor, I’m sure you have other patients to attend. Erlin? Return to your duties and inform T.O. Samilin he is in charge of the bridge while I speak to this _aristh_. >

Adarin and Erlin left. The captain must have seen my relief, for he smiled.

<I have a daughter around your age,> he said. <I would not have put her in your situation...but my daughter would also rather self-destruct than admit she was afraid.>

I said nothing.

<What is your name?>

<Esthra-Shathur-Halas, sir.>

The captain’s main eyes widened. <You are War-Prince Alloran’s daughter?>

<Yes, sir.>

I saw his eyes narrow thoughtfully, but he didn’t comment further. <Tell me what happened.>

I re-told the story, beginning from when Jarrel and I infiltrated the facility to the rendezvous with Erlin’s team. At times the captain would make me go back over a certain point or describe it in further detail. He was particularly interested in the Leeran.

<You said it was a Controller.>

<Yes, sir. It recognized me for who I was. It saw through my Hork-Bajir morph.>

He made me repeat my experience in the prison with Sub-Visser Thirty-seven. I tried my best to disguise the tremble in my hands as I talked, but he didn’t seem to notice. He asked questions about my prison, then for details about the Yeerk facility. I described the approximate number of guards, the type of hosts and the technology I had seen.

Then he asked me again about the files I’d sent to Ilinix. I had mentioned sending classified information, but had not elaborated.

<I am unsure of Prince Ilinix’s orders,> I said nervously when he pressed me for information. <I have not-->

The captain moved. I flinched, but he only walked to the comm panel set into the wall and spoke. The relay picked up his thought-speak and broadcast it across the ship.

<This is the captain. Ilinix-Langor-Darrath, report to the medical bay! Now!>

Only a few minutes passed before Ilinix arrived, panting like he’d run halfway across the ship. I guess even princes jump when captains say how high.

He was surprised to see me, that was for sure.

< _Aristh!_ >

I wasn’t sure exactly why he was surprised. It could have only been Ilinix who influenced the extraction mission through the captain. Perhaps he did not expect me to survive. I still wasn’t sure I had expected me to survive.

<Explain the transmission you received from this facility,> the captain said.

Ilinix straightened. <I have not had time to fully-- >

<Just give me your summary.>

<Yes, sir. The files appear to be copies of transmissions sent from the human homeworld to an unknown location. We are still tracing the destination, but the files themselves are enough to send an urgent communication to the homeworld. They appear to be invasion plans for Leera.>

<Leera!> the captain said. <Why in the….> He stopped to process the thought, and must have reached the same conclusion as I had, for he turned to Ilinix. <Send everything you have to the homeworld immediately. Priority One, my authorization. The War Council must know of this!>

When Ilinix was gone, the captain turned to me.

<This will give us a great advantage,> he said. <But there is still the matter of the mission. Four of my warriors are dead, in what was supposed to be a simple extraction. I will have answers.>

I heard the anger in his voice and tried to shove my fear down into the pit of my stomach.

<Sir,> I said, when I could speak without shaking. <What will happen to me?>

Captain Fornul gave me a long, hard stare. But when he spoke it was with pity.

<I do not know, _aristh_ , but I hope you have been truthful.>

I didn’t need to hear the implied warning. I knew what would happen if my answers were found wanting.

* * *

 The advantage--or disadvantage, if you will--of being stuck on a ship in space was there were very few places I could go that I would not be watched.

I was not officially confined to my quarters, but Captain Fornul made it clear I was not to make trouble. For three days I only left my quarters to eat. The rest of the time I spent at my computer.

On the fourth day I received a summons to attend a judicial hearing. An inquest of sorts, to determine the next step.

It was held in the briefing room, where I had received the mission that turned my life upside down. Several officers attended, along with the jury. Captain Fornul, T.O. Samilin, Doctor Adarin, Prince Ilinix. Even some of my former colleagues from the science division--since rejoined with the military.

I heard the charges. I told my story as truthfully as possible.

And now...all I could do was await to hear what would become of me.  



	11. Chapter 10

The entire room stared at me after I fell silent.

I am not sure what the magistrate had been expecting when he asked for my story, but he seemed disturbed. He recovered quickly though, and glanced around the room.

<Where is the ship’s physician?>

Doctor Adarin stepped forward. In his hands he held a holographic datapad, loaded with a data disc. <Here, honoured one.>

<Can you confirm the _aristh’s_ injuries?>

<Yes, sir. As the _aristh_ herself stated, she suffered several lacerations as well as fractures of three left metacarpals. She also suffered severe widespread, rapid intra-cellular degeneration consistent with known Yeerk interrogation techniques. Transmitting my report now.>

<Very good,> the magistrate said. <Warrior Erlin, I will have your evaluation.>

Erlin stepped forward.

<My warriors did not find a trace of this Sub-Visser Thirty-seven,> he said, with a brief glance at me, <but did confirm the presence of Vissers Three and Four at the facility.> He seemed to hesitate then added, <Visser Three is well-known for cruelty towards his sub-ordinates. He may have disposed of this sub-visser, if the intended results of the interrogation were not achieved.>

<Is that your official opinion, Warrior Erlin?> the magistrate said, eyes narrowing.

<Yes, sir.>

<And what became of Vissers Three and Four?>

There was a pause. Then…

<Escaped,> Erlin said. <Sensors on our ships tracked a Yeerk blade ship leaving the facility before we destroyed it.>

My shoulders dropped. I hadn’t realised until then just how much I’d been dreading and hoping for news of my father.

You cannot understand the pain of a loved one made an unwilling host to a Yeerk. Even though the Visser terrified me, I would have rather killed his host myself than let him live another day as a slave.

And yet...I wanted my father to survive. I wanted to be the one to crush his Yeerk slavemaster under my hooves. For the first time in my life I wanted my father back.

Suddenly I was furious. Angry at Jinha for putting me in this position. Angry at Jarrel for taking his own life and forcing me to confront the cruel mockery of my father’s disgrace.

But...beneath the anger was something else. The memory of how my father had fought the Yeerk in his head at the very sight of me. He had lost...but it meant he was still alive and aware. I didn’t know whether to be horrified or hopeful.

<Captain Fornul?> the magistrate said, drawing me back to the present.

<I have been in consultation with my officers,> the captain said. <Despite the...unusual circumstances, I am confident this _aristh_ performed her duty to the best of her ability. The loss of my warriors was unfortunate, but it is not through her doing.>

I stared at the floor with all four eyes. I didn’t dare look at the captain. I was afraid to show how grateful and guilty I felt at his words.

<Allow me to summarize,> the magistrate said to me. <You, an untrained female, were volunteered for a classified mission despite your lack of rank and experience, including the required experience of morphing.> I began to reply, but he cut me off. <You and Warrior Jarrel-Toraak-Elash successfully infiltrated this facility, and he took his own life rather than be captured alive.>

This time there was silence. The first mention of this had been met with scandalized gasps and exclamations.

I raised my main eyes to meet the judiciaries’ gaze. I saw only sternness and disapproval there. Not for me--but for Jarrel. For what he had done.

<I would like to say…> I began, then paused. The magistrate gave me a slight nod, allowing me to continue. <I would like to say that Warrior Jarrel was not a coward. He did not take his life because he was afraid. The Yeerks would not have killed him. His body was too valuable.>

<Tell me something, _aristh_. Were you afraid? >

<Yes,> I admitted. <Since I left the ship I have been nothing but afraid.>

<But you were interrogated, and you survived. You faced Visser Three and still survived. Not even many warriors can say that.>

Was the old wind machine actually complimenting me? I saw a couple of the judiciaries shoot him dubious glances. Obviously not something that happened often.

<As far as disciplinary hearings go, this is unusual,> the magistrate said thoughtfully. <There is also an important question: were these files worth four Andalite lives? Albeit lives lost on a hasty mission undertaken with little training or preparation.

<But the mission goals were accomplished, nonetheless. Perhaps not to the standard expected of a full warrior...but is there more we could have asked of a young cadet?>

I admit I was still angry, but more prevalent was my confusion. I’d thought the judiciaries ready to sentence me to prison and throw away the key, so to speak. Now they looked thoughtful as the magistrate spoke. Some were stern, others almost sympathetic.

The hearing concluded after that, and I was taken back to my quarters. I was not confined, which I hoped meant well.

It made what I was about to do all the more foolish.

* * *

I left my quarters much later, after most of the ship’s inhabitants had retired. Only a skeleton crew were left to monitor sensors and keep eyes on the operation of the ship.

I was extremely nervous, and it was difficult to act normally as I walked down the corridor. If I was caught, I would most certainly be disciplined. Harshly. And I was in enough trouble as it was.

But there was something sinister happening; something I _almost_ could figure out, but not quite. I owed it to myself to find out the truth...and I owed it to Jinha.

Science is an ever-evolving discipline, but I’d always found it comforting that its fundamentals remained much the same. There were always new questions to ask, new possibilities, new ways of approaching a problem. If I couldn’t find the answers one way then I would have to change the way in which I approached the problem.

Simple enough, in theory.

Jinha’s quarters were wide open; not a sight I had been expecting. As I approached I could see a familiar person bent over his desk, sorting through data discs.

For a split second I thought it was Jinha, but then he glanced up. His stalk eyes met mine.

<Esthra!>

I cringed, but Ilinix’s tone wasn’t angry. Something else...glad? Hopeful?

<Come in,> he said, <and quickly. Close the door behind you and lock it. I have been expecting you.>

I did as instructed, though locking the door made me nervous. Yet, I couldn’t disobey a direct order. <Me, sir?>

<Yes, you.> He was thought-speaking privately. He waved me over to Jinha’s terminal. The screen displayed a blank screen with a list of encrypted files. <Don’t tell me you are here to take a midnight stroll through the ship. I know you made a copy of the files. Your uncle’s been in contact.>

<Oh.>

See, I _had_ been truthful to the judiciaries about the mission. I had just left out one detail--at the facility I had uploaded a copy of the files to the implant chip in my brain. When I returned to the ship I had sent it to my uncle, Arbat-Elivat-Estoni.

My uncle could be unpredictable. He could have given me a lecture about the importance of keeping classified files to high-security channels, or he could have praised me for passing on what could be one of the most important finds in the current war.

I guess he decided to contact Prince Ilinix instead. So much for the secrecy. Still, my uncle had been an intelligence adviser to the war council some years before. He had contacts who would ensure this information was passed on.

<Here.> Ilinix pointed to the screen. There were the transmission records that had triggered the mission, decrypted and marked as ‘Project Poseidon’. He looked at me with one stalk eye. <You are not the only one who had classified files to send. Before he died, Jarrel-Toraak-Elash sent me information that will turn the War Council on its collective tail. He made one mistake: he did not encrypt his transmission. That was to be your role.>

<But I was ordered to continue without him!>

<I’m not finished, _aristh_. Jarrel took that risk because what he found was worth more than his life. The interruption you experienced was likely a deliberate distraction. So… >

<So I was expendable,> I said flatly. Trying not to sound as bitter as I felt. <The files I had found were important, but his were vital.>

Another file popped up on the screen, prompted by Ilinix’s thought-speak connection. Encrypted mostly, in code even I found nonsensical.

<This,> Ilinix said. <Communications between a Yeerk visser and an unknown second party. The signature is unmistakeable, though: it is from an Andalite relay.>

It took a moment for me to process the information. Then I realised.

<No! That is impossible!>

Prince Ilinix turned his main eyes toward me. I saw his look from one stalk eye; my main focus was on the code filling the computer screen.

More Andalite-Controllers? How?! The Yeerks would not have been able to keep that quiet. Even just having one Andalite host had been a major victory for them. If they had managed to capture and infest more, surely we would know of it.

Unless…

Unless the Yeerks were trying for a subtler approach. If they could infiltrate the military, the war council…

<There cannot be another,> I said to Ilinix. <There can never be another.>

<We are in agreement. But you are forgetting one important detail.>

I was confused, and I guess it must have shown. He sighed. <Kandrona Rays, young one. Have you forgotten your school lessons already?>

Of course, he was right. A portable Kandrona generator would be impossible to conceal for long.

I felt a little embarrassed. Everyone knows Yeerks have to return to their pools every three days to absorb the rays of their sun. Though nowadays they had portable generators, courtesy of Prince Seerow. I hadn’t forgotten, but my reaction had been so visceral and raw I hadn’t stopped to consider the Yeerks’ limitations.

Then another possibility dawned on me. <But...if the signature is from an Andalite relay and there is no possible way to conceal a generator, then…>

Ilinix looked grim. <We have a traitor in our midst. Perhaps several.>

It took several deep breaths to steady myself after a wave of disgust and anger. The thought of Andalite hosts was bad enough. That Andalites may have willingly colluded with our most hated enemy was unthinkable. Nauseating!

And yet, the evidence was in front of me. Literally.

Ilinix shut off the screen and let his shoulders slump. For a moment he looked a lot older. Tired and war-weary.

After a few moments he seemed to rouse himself and looked at me again, with that appraising stare. The same look he’d given me when I had first met him in the briefing room.

<It is clear to me that we will not get to the bottom of this mystery by discussing files on a computer,> he said. <I have need of you again, _aristh_ \--for a mission far more dangerous than the last. Will you serve?>

Not an order. A question. That took me by surprise.

<Why would you want me?> I asked, more forcefully than intended. <My first mission was an utter catastrophe. I’m under investigation…>

Ilinix sighed. <Judiciary hearings are a flexing of tail muscles. A reminder that no-one is a law unto themselves.>

<I don’t understand.>

<You have nothing to worry about, little _aristh_. You will not be imprisoned for following orders. If you accept this mission, you will not leave this ship without the proper instruction. >

<If I accept.>

<Yes.>

I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. <And if I don’t?>

He sighed again. <You cannot go home, young one. You must know that.>

Of course. The _SolarStorm_ was going to war now; I would be called to serve in whatever capacity I could. Whatever mission Ilinix had in mind for me was likely something so dangerous he could not order me to carry it out.

<I want to serve,> I said. I meant it.


	12. Chapter 11

I was to go behind Yeerk lines.

That should have terrified me, given the risk of capture, torture and infestation. On some level it still did. But as the days went by I began to put the horrors of my last mission behind me and threw my focus into preparation.

I was taught tail fighting; the deadly combat skill in use even with modern technology. I was given access to every scrap of information we held on the Yeerks. I learned their anatomy, their history, their conquests and failures. I learned about the Hork-Bajir conflict: not just what we had been told in school, but the truth. I learned what my father had created and unleashed on the Hork-Bajir people, and my hearts ached with an old disappointment that surprised me. I wondered how he must have felt. Why he never talked about it. If he carried the pain and guilt of that decision, like I carried mine.

Among the information were records on high-ranking Yeerks, intended as dossiers for assassins. I read them anyway. One that piqued my interest stuck out: the history of Esplin-Nine-Four-Double-Six. Otherwise known as Visser Three.

I read his history. I made myself intimately familiar with it. And I imagined crushing his slug body under my hoof. Slowly, so it could feel its insides burst.

But my goal wasn’t assassination, it was infiltration. So for now, those fantasies remained just that.

The files Jarrel and I had pulled from the Yeerk facility were one part of a whole. The roots of this betrayal ran deep. If we were to gain any understanding of its extent we could not sit on the ship and do nothing.

It was an extremely high risk operation. I had a year’s worth of training crammed into me in a month. On the days I wasn’t studying I practiced my Hork-Bajir morph. By the time a month passed I was as familiar with its body as one could be. I’d been seen walking around the ship in morph so often, the warriors hardly batted an eye.

One day near the end of my training, Prince Ilinix called me back into the briefing room. I’d half expected the T.O. to be present like last time, but there was no-one else. The room was empty of any furniture, save for a transparent surface in the centre of the room. On it sat a cylindrical container made of metal alloy. It was plain and unassuming, but I had a feeling what was in it.

<You leave in eight hours,> Ilinix said without preamble, as was his usual manner. <You know the parameters of your mission. You have one morph...but we have not been able to obtain this particular creature until now.>

He pressed a button on the cylinder and its surface became transparent. Floating inside, suspended in a gel-like liquid was a Yeerk.

I fought a wave of revulsion, but could not stop myself from drawing closer. I had seen pictures of them in our databanks of course, but never in person.

I knew it might be necessary for my mission to morph a Yeerk. The thought of touching it was unpleasant, but I steadied myself and reached a hand into the container.

The Yeerk must have sensed my fingers closing around its body, for it tried to squirm away. I held it tight and acquired its DNA.

<Will you interrogate it?> I asked when I had withdrawn my hand.

<It is hard to question a thing that can't speak,> Ilinix said with a laugh.

<Ah. Then…>

<It will be eliminated, quickly and painlessly.>

I guess he expected me to protest. When I said nothing he shrugged his shoulders. <Officially we do not murder prisoners. But _officially,_  this Yeerk was never here.>

When I thought back on this moment later I would realize Ilinix was testing me. Gauging my reaction. But he hadn't been on that Bug fighter between Jarrel and a Hork-Bajir whose only crime was being an unwilling party to an evil it could not comprehend.

It had been a slave. This was a Yeerk. A parasite.

The rest of the briefing was standard. I was filled in on the details of my mission and given my orders.

I was given a persona. I was to become Idrash Five-One-Four, a sub-visser. The Yeerk had been on its way to the pool ship stationed over Earth. According to the data I had been handed, it was due to report in less than twenty-two hours.

I did not ask how Ilinix had gathered this much information. Sometimes it's best not to hear answers you are not ready for.

The Yeerk had a Hork-Bajir host. I had a Hork-Bajir morph. I was confident I could pass for a Controller. If I was lucky, I would not have to morph the Yeerk.

If I was lucky.

I returned to my quarters and looked around at my belongings; my computer, my family pictures. I would not be permitted to bring much. One cannot go undercover as a Yeerk and bring something as sentimental as mementos. Yeerks had no families.

There was, however, one thing I would be taking with me.

I went to my computer and turned over the holographic emitter. I used the tip of my tail blade to pry open a panel. Inside was a small component glowing dull blue. I removed it and laid it on the table. Next was the work bench folded against the far wall. Another component was folded against its hinges, held in place with gravity and its mild magnetic field.

Piece by piece I retrieved the Escafil device from its hiding spots. It was one more detail I had left out of my story. Another act that could land me in trouble...but after the revelations on my mission and the information Ilinix had disclosed, there could be traitorous Andalites anywhere. Perhaps even on this ship.

So I reduced it to components and concealed it. The parts would come with me as spares for the Bug fighter.

It may sound as if I had every contingency planned, but the truth was I relied on other factors.

That the Yeerks would not be able to tell individual Hork-Bajir apart, as they regarded their hosts as little more than empty bodies for their use. That Yeerk technology, while obviously inferior to Andalite technology, was stolen from ours and thus would perform similar functions. And lastly, that most Yeerks were not aware of the Escafil device’s specific functionality.

Perhaps too many unreliable factors...but I could not plan for every possible issue. At the very least the device would remain with me, and its parts were useless individually. It would be in the heart of enemy territory -- but also out of reach of potentially treasonous Andalites who, unlike the Yeerks, knew how to reassemble and activate it.

Better the enemy you know than the one you do not.

* * *

I rested, albeit badly. When it was time I left my quarters and headed for the drop shaft on my level. But I was not alone--another Andalite was at the panel. One stalk eye turned towards me.

<Esthra, right?>

It was the _aristh_ I'd picked a fight with in the Dome. Had it only been a month ago? It felt like a lifetime.

<Territh,> I said, remembering his name. <I should apologize for the fight we had.>

Territh blinked at me with his main eyes, but didn't respond, so I continued. <I was angry. I took this out on you.>

<Entera’s dead.>

<What?>

I remembered him. The younger Andalite who'd looked at Territh with the kind of wide-eyed admiration I remembered feeling towards my father long ago. Hero worship.

<He died,> Territh said. He seemed somehow older and younger at the same time. All the swagger had gone out of him. <There was a battle. We had to capture a few Yeerks alive. Some big shot intelligence adviser’s orders.>

My stomach churned.

<The Yeerks blew up his fighter. He’d been paired up with another cadet. I didn’t want to go with him.> He gave a bitter laugh. <I told him he was annoying me. I didn’t really mean it. I was too worried about looking tough in front of the warriors.>

I didn’t know what to say. <Territh, I’m-->

<I don’t even know why I’m telling you.> Territh laughed again, and I heard the sob building in his quick breaths. <The others...they don’t talk about this stuff. Nobody does, not even the warriors. But you can tell...they know. They can see it when you return.>

I wanted to stay and comfort him. I wanted to tell him I knew how that felt--stumbling through the docking bay with your mind still anchored back in the middle of that awful, screaming slaughter. Unable to let go. Unable to forget.

<I have to leave,> I said eventually, when the seconds stretched into awkwardness. <Orders.>

<Of course.> His stalk eyes drooped, but he stepped aside to let me into the drop shaft. <Hey, _aristh?_ >

I turned to look at him.

<Make it mean something.>

The drop shaft doors closed.

<I will,> I said as the gravity initalized. <I promise.>


	13. Chapter 12

_Three months later..._

 

“Sub-Visser Forty-seven, are you paying attention?”

The holographic screen flickered as Visser Eleven passed her hand over the emitter. She had a human host. A female, perhaps around the equivalent of an Andalite’s median years. Brown skin with yellow undertones. Short, black hair.

“Yes, Visser.” I straightened my Hork-Bajir shoulders and stared at the screen with as much concentration as I could muster. Visser Eleven was not as brutal a commander as some, but she did not tolerate laziness or lack of attention to detail. I could not afford to draw any negative attention to myself, and as her subordinate she would expect me to pay attention to this briefing.

“As I was saying,” Visser Eleven continued. “Our latest reports on the Royan Island project indicate we are ready to move to its next phrase. With Idrash Five-One-Four’s recent promotion, she has been chosen to oversee Phase Two in preparation for our conquest of Leera.”

The other sub-vissers in the room turned to look at me. They were an odd collection of hosts; mostly human and Hork-Bajir, with one or two Taxxons. Some gave me looks of open envy. Others were more subtle...and those were the ones whose expressions I had learned to interpret. Who could tell what a Taxxon’s facial expressions looked like?

Fifteen minutes left in morph. If this meeting did not conclude soon I would have to make some excuse to return to my quarters.

“I expect all of you to report to the docking bay in twelve hours. That’s oh-four-hundred, Earth time.” Visser Eleven shot another glance at the screen, then back to us. “Sub-Visser Forty-seven, come here. The rest of you are dismissed.”

I stopped, reluctantly. Ten minutes left!

“Your briefing,” the visser said. She pressed a button on the emitter and it ejected a data disc, which she handed to me. I took it from her gingerly, careful not to cut her with my blades.

“Thank you, Visser.”

Without warning she grabbed me with a surprising amount of strength for such a frail-looking body. Her fingers dug into my arm just below my wrist blades. I could feel her fingernails digging into my thick, dark green skin.

“No mistakes,” she said. “Do you understand? Visser Four wants this project off the ground by the time he arrives.”

“Of course, Visser.” I twisted my face into an expression of alarm. I wasn’t afraid of this Yeerk, but the visser expected Idrash to be.

“Good. Oh-four-hundred. Be ready.”

“I will, Visser.”

Eight minutes.

I left the moment she released me, clutching the data disc in one clawed hand, and shoved through the others leaving the room. Yeerks often abused their subordinates, something I found distasteful and tried to avoid unless needed. Still, some roughness was expected. I was also bordering on desperation at this point; I had to get back to my quarters and demorph. As useful as this body was I still preferred my own, and I could stay in morph for no longer than two hours. That rule had not changed despite years of studying the morphing technology.

I made it to my quarters with just four minutes to spare. It was oddly similar to my room on the _SolarStorm_ ; plain and devoid of furniture save for a table and an elevated sleeping surface designed for Hork-Bajir. It also had a computer; an infuriatingly slow piece of machinery that made me miss Andalite technology.

I secured the door with shaking hands and began to demorph as rapidly as I could. Once I was back in my body I leaned against the wall, breathing deeply.

It had not been easy to live among these creatures for such a long time. The constant demorphing and remorphing was tiring. The ever-present fear of discovery was overwhelming -- as was the difficulty of blending in; of pretending to be part of this race of cunning, brutal people.

After my studies of Yeerks as a species I had expected them to glorify in the enslavement of the hosts they considered little more than empty vessels. I had met many Yeerks like that; I had pretended to laugh and agree with them, though it made me sick to do so.

What I hadn’t expected was the surprising number of Yeerks that found no enjoyment in enslaving a host. Some were bothered by it. Some even talked of making peace with their hosts, or forgoing hosts all together.

I was not pleased at this. Not because I did not want the Yeerks to exist as a threat, of course, but because it was easier for me to think of them as entirely lacking in redeemable qualities. Perhaps that was cowardice on my part, but I had little time for moral dilemmas in my line of work.

I opened my terminal and began the arduous process of connecting to the _SolarStorm_.

The Yeerk computers were based on Andalite technology perhaps ten years out of date, so I previously had to write a small program to allow communication through a separate, encrypted channel. The low frequency radio waves given off by humans’ intraplanetary communications also masked the transmission itself.

I opened the channel and focused my thoughts. Within moments Prince Ilinix appeared on my screen.

< _Aristh_ Esthra,> he said. <Good to see you.>

<And you, Prince Ilinix. Transmitting my report now.>

Every week, the same routine. Not always at the same time or on the same day. We tried to avoid a pattern of communications, despite taking every precaution. And if something happened to me, Ilinix had other agents to carry on my tasks. At least that’s what I suspected. He had not told me this, of course.

<So they have progressed to Phase Two,> Ilinix said. One stalk eye twisted to the right, presumably looking at the data files I’d sent him. <A genetic engineering project. I was not aware the Yeerks had advanced enough for this possibility.>

<The Yeerks steal what they cannot invent, as you know,> I replied. <The formulas seem to be based on old Andalite science, with some parts that are lifted from Ongachic engineering physic equations. The Yeerks plan to modify some Earth creatures for their own purposes.>

Ilinix’s eyes narrowed. <It seems likely these modifications will be in preparation for Leera.>

<Yes.> I paused, wondering if I should press the issue. <Sir, we are running out of time. I have done my best to sabotage this project without drawing attention to myself, but I don’t know if I can destroy an entire facility without being captured. If I could -- >

<We have discussed this, _aristh_. >

<But there are survivors down there! Our people! I have intercepted transmissions from Visser Three. If I could make contact with the other Andalites, I could -- >

<Your mission,> Ilinix said, cutting me off, <is to infiltrate this facility and learn about this project. Nothing more.>

The screen went blank, and I fought the urge to slam my fists on the table in frustration.

Three months I had been stationed on the Yeerk pool ship in the persona of ‘Idrash-Five-One-Four’, unable to do anything but send weekly reports to Ilinix.

The ship itself was in orbit above Earth, looming over the planet like a bloated insect. It was home to tens of thousands of Yeerks, mostly without host bodies. The pools in this one were filled to capacity.

Lines of Yeerk communication were not as clear and readily available as I would like, but I knew the invasion was well under way on Earth. Hundreds of human hosts taken every month, and there was no shortage of host bodies...or parasites to enslave them.

It was difficult to watch these events unfolding and being told to do nothing but observe.

The first two days after my arrival I witnessed an Andalite Dome ship shot down over the planet. I’d watched the battle from my viewpoint on the pool ship as the Yeerks around me cheered. I thought no-one had survived, and watching my people burn without batting an eye was one of the hardest things I had ever done.

Then reports of Andalite warriors made their way to the pool ship. They had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, attacking swiftly and brutally, then vanishing. They were a thorn in Visser Three’s side, it was said, and he wanted them dead or alive.

My hearts burned fiercely every time I heard mention of the Andalite ‘bandits’, as the visser called them. I wanted to be down there helping my people. War sickened me and battles terrified me, but I hadn’t forgotten the look in my father’s eyes when he recognized me in that facility.

I felt helpless. Useless. That only added to my anger and frustration.

But I had a duty to do, and both my superiors -- Yeerk and Andalite -- expected me to do it. So I put the data disc into my computer and began to read.


	14. Chapter 13

Andalites knew of Earth and had for several years, but few of us had ever seen it in person. I had spent the past three months in orbit above the planet, and I had learned much from human-Controllers and the Yeerks’ databanks.

Nothing could compare to actually being on the planet’s surface -- or below it, as it were.

The Royan Island facility was built into a sloping rock formation two hundred feet below the ocean surface. It was larger than I had expected, with far more Yeerks. My subordinates and I added six more to their numbers.

Two weeks we had been here, and I was no any closer to discovering more about the Yeerks’ invasion plans. We were put to work as science officers and technicians. I was given total control of the facility’s laboratory with my own space and the autonomy to work, although within a deadline.

I almost laughed at the irony. It had been my dream to have my own laboratory and the space to conduct my own experiments. Now I had that, but I was working for the Yeerks.

“You,” I said to my assistant. “Get me the neural probe.”

The implant I’d just assembled floated gently in its anti-gravity field. I picked up a pair of forceps in one hand and carefully pushed the last component into place.

It was times like these I missed using my own hands, which were infinitely better at delicate manipulation. Hork-Bajir hands were designed for climbing trees and stripping bark.

One of my subordinates returned with the neural probe, and at my instruction loaded the implant into the device. They had a human host. The fingers were not as nimble, but they were more suited to lab work than mine.

In the centre of the laboratory was a specimen tank hung from the ceiling by thick cables. A mammoth Earth creature filled the tank, floating in conductive gel. Greyish and white in colour, its body was sleek and streamlined for speed and agility. Its head was an odd shape, wide and flat, with a mouth full of teeth on its underside. One dark eye stared blankly at me as I made adjustments to the tank and the force field that strengthened it.

The creature was called a hammerhead shark. The words had no meaning for me, of course, but I had been told a ‘shark’ was a type of predatory fish common in many Earth oceans. They were particularly common around these waters.

It was dead, of course. I had discussed this with Visser Eleven, arguing that live testing could kill these creatures by the dozen and leave less for use on Leera. Secretly, I abhorred the idea of conducting potentially painful experiments on living creatures...but of course I could not say that.

“Inject the implant into the back of its head,” I instructed my subordinate. “Just below the hind brain. Avoid the spinal cord.”

The conductive gel fed a stream of biophysiological information to a computer screen set up in front of the tank. I could see images of the shark’s brain. Slightly fuzzy, grey-ish images, but images nonetheless. I saw the implant as the neural probe injected it deep into the tissue -- then the image lit up with electrical activity as the implant activated. The dead shark twitched as the implant over-stimulated the neural tissue.

“Adjust!” I said sharply.

Quickly my assistant adjusted the implant’s signal strength, and the dead shark stopped twitching. On the computer screen I watched the neurons firing. The implant was designed to modify the shark’s simple brain over time. The first step was to teach it to obey simple commands. The next was altering its anatomy so a Yeerk could infest it.

Biotechnology was my specialty. I had invented this implant from little more than theory, and I had brought it to life.

I wish I could say it was a triumphant moment, but all I felt was disgust and guilt. This was the enemy I had invented this for. I shouldn’t be happy. I shouldn’t be proud.

My subordinates began to record the test data. I left them with instructions to complete the daily report and left the lab, heading for the common area.

The facility was huge, hidden by a hologram that projected an image of a sheer rock wall underneath Royan Island. There were three docks. One was empty. Two held prototype Bug fighters. They left at frequent intervals, shuttling Yeerks back to the pool ship for feeding.

There were other departments, of course: maintenance, central control, engineering. The Yeerks were preparing for our tests to conclude. They would then commence mass modification of every shark they could get their hands on, to speak.

 _You had to do it_ , I told myself. Continual failure would have drawn suspicion, and put me in danger. Yeerks were not a forgiving species.

I had built a liquidation failsafe into the technology, of course, but being able to destroy this facility seemed increasingly unlikely. Every day that passed I drew closer to being discovered, and if I was infested that would mean all this would be for nothing.

Prince Ilinix made my mission clear. It would be foolish in most circumstances to disobey my superior...but wouldn’t it be more so to put myself at further risk?

“Idrash Five-One-Four!”

I turned my head to see a human approaching me, not one I recognised. She was young, only a few years older than my own equivalent age. Her skin was medium brown, her eyes and hair almost black.

“It’s Odret-Seven-One-Twenty-Two,” she said, when I stared at her.

I did know her. Odret-Seven-One-Twenty-Two was a sub-visser one rank above me.

“You don’t recognize me,” Odret said. “I had a Hork-Bajir host.”

I forced my shoulders to relax. “You worked security at the Kandrona, yes. I remember.”

“And you’re down in the labs. They should grant you a human host body, eh? Hork-Bajir hands aren’t made for delicate work. I’ll put in a word for you.”

“Thank you.”

The Yeerk didn’t seem to notice my obvious distraction. She fell into step beside me as I walked.

“Did you hear the news?” she asked, leaning in close. “I talked to one of the technicians. He says we’re getting a visit from Visser One. Less than two months.”

I stopped. “Visser One?”

What did I know about Visser One? Not much. I knew she had a human host, and I knew she was responsible for the discovery of Earth by the Yeerks. That was all.

“Yes,” Odret said, “and I heard our deadline has been pushed forward for invasion. The Visser is even bringing a Leeran to oversee the project. The first host we captured.”

I felt the bottom of my stomach drop away, and then I was back at that deep space facility standing between Jarrel and a line of Hork-Bajir -- and the Leeran, staring at me with its glassy eyes --

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. The air seemed thick and hot all of a sudden. It was choking me! I was back in that prison with the Yeerk’s voice in my ears, taunting me as I writhed in pain and gasped for air --

“Hey, where are you going?” Odret demanded as I stumbled away. I ignored her.

Had to get back to my quarters. I needed out of this body.

 

How I made it to my room without being stopped or questioned, I don’t know. I almost forgot in my haste to lock the door and had to turn back, staggering on legs that were crunching and grinding. My half-morphed hands could barely press the buttons, but I managed to seal the room. Once I was back in my own body I collapsed against the wall and sobbed until I could barely breathe.

It never ceases to fascinate me how efficiently the mind works to protect itself. Sometimes it’s enough to convince yourself you are fine, even after experiencing horrors beyond your worst imagination. But it’s not perfect -- you hear a word, a smell, a sound, and you’re right back in that moment with everything you felt in perfect clarity. If only our happy memories were as powerful.

It took me a long time to calm down. When I could breathe without crying, I looked at myself in the dull reflection on my blank computer screen.

<You’ve come this far on your own,> I said to my reflection. <You can’t give up yet.>

I couldn’t contact Ilinix at this depth; Yeerk technology had its limits. I also did not entirely trust his orders. I had not forgotten the warnings of traitors in our midst.

That left one option. I could attempt to contact the Andalite bandits.

If I knew my people, they would have organized on the planet’s surface. They would have used human communication relays, or built their own. With their help I could even call the homeworld and ask for orders. Perhaps I could ask for my uncle’s advice.

But first, I had to escape this place.

* * *

I fell asleep when my hearts finally stopped racing. I was exhausted from the continuous demorphing and on edge from the ever-present paranoia and fear.

I woke up to a pounding on my door.

“Sub-Visser Forty-seven! Open up!”

I couldn’t answer; I wasn’t in morph. I began to change as quickly as I could while the impatient knocker yelled some more.

After a minute I was able to open the door as a Hork-Bajir. To my surprise it was Visser Eleven, flanked by two Hork-Bajir guards.

“Come,” she said. I felt the fear rise in my stomach, but there was no arguing with that tone.

I followed her down the hallway outside my quarters and into a darkened room I had not yet been to. There was a computer terminal and, to my surprise, a portable Yeerk pool filled to the brim.

Odret was there. She did not look friendly.

“Odret Seven-One-Twenty-Two reported some erratic behaviour from you earlier, Sub-Visser,” Visser Eleven said. “Tell me, how long has it been since you’ve fed?”

I knew I couldn’t lie. They would have records of me entering and leaving the pool facilities on the mother ship.

“Approximately two days, Visser.”

“I see. Missed the shuttle to the pool ship, did we?”

I forced myself to breathe deeply and slowly, although my chest hurt from tightening muscles. “Yes, Visser.”

Visser Eleven’s voice became silky. Dangerous. “We cannot have our scientists weak from hunger. So,” she added, and indicated the pool, “feed now. This is an emergency supply. My own supply.”

For a second I just froze, staring at the pool. I couldn’t deposit a Yeerk into it of course; my Hork-Bajir body was a morph. When I hesitated I saw the two guards drift slightly closer.

No way out. I was trapped. I began to feel the fear hormones flooding my system, setting every nerve ending on edge.

“Feed,” Visser Eleven said, barely above a whisper. “That is an order, Idrash-Five-One-Four. I will not repeat myself.”

I had to be quicker than I had ever been in my life. I had to strike first before the guards could react.

But first, they had to be close.

“You are too generous, Visser,” I said, with the air of a grateful subordinate. I allowed the Hork-Bajir to flank me as I approached the pool.

I kneeled. The guards placed one hand on my shoulders. Prepared to push my head beneath the surface--

I struck out blindly with both arms at once. The blades at my elbows turned outwards to present the sharp edge. I felt a slight pressure as they scraped against thick skin, then cut deep. Muscle and tendon parted and the Hork-Bajir bellowed.

_Slash!_

“Traitor!” Visser Eleven screamed.

A cut opened on my arm; a glancing blow. I grabbed the attacking Hork-Bajir by the neck, flexed my muscles and sent it careening into the visser.

“Die!”

I whirled and dodged an attack from the second Hork-Bajir, who had managed to pull himself up with one leg dragging. Wounded, but highly dangerous.

The Yeerk lived in that body. Mine was only a morph. But I was angry, panicked and desperate.

Movement behind him! Odret rose, a Dracon beam clutched in one hand.

_Tseew!_

Missed my head by millimetres. I let out a bellow, lowered my head and charged straight into the Hork-Bajir. My forehead blades punctured his chest and he staggered, crashing into Odret. Her Dracon beam fired wildly.

He went down hard. He stayed down.


	15. Chapter 14

I stood still for a moment, shaking, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Four Controllers sprawled across the floor. Liquid from the Yeerk pool slopped over the sides and splashed on the floor, curling in dull grey ribbons around pools of green-blue and dark red blood.

I began to demorph as quickly as I could. I had maybe minutes or seconds until someone came to investigate the noise. Taxxons would smell the spilled blood from miles away.

“Help...me…”

A human voice. Weak, yet familiar. I stepped around a prone Hork-Bajir and saw Odret crawling her way from underneath. She clutched the Dracon beam in a bloodied hand. As she raised it --

_Fwapp!_

I pinned her wrist with the flat of my tail blade and wrenched the weapon from her fingers.

“Help me,” she pleaded. “Don’t let me die.”

Then I saw the Yeerk pushing its way out of the human’s ear, and I realized this was the human host speaking.

I used my tail to lift one of the Hork-Bajir’s legs, and the human pulled herself free with great effort. She was too weak to stand. I could see red blood staining her clothing.

“Are you an Andalite?” she whispered.

<Yes.>

“Not Idrash. Not Yeerk.” She coughed and closed her eyes momentarily, fighting the pain. “My name is Jenna.”

<I am Esthra.> I needed to go, but it felt wrong to leave this alien to die alone. <I’m sorry.>

“Doesn’t--argh..d-doesn’t matter. She left me. I’m free. Not long now, but it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Her voice became fainter and fainter. I kneeled awkwardly on the slippery floor and bent my upper body closer.

<Jenna.>

“Yeah. I’m h..here.”

<I do not wish to ask this of you, but I’m not able to blend in with your species. I need your DNA. Will you give me your permission?>

I felt terrible, asking this human to take her likeness, to use it. To walk out of here while she clearly would not.

But she didn’t seem to be offended, only weary.

“Okay,” she said, and coughed again. “Yeah, okay. Take it.”

I acquired her DNA, and held her hand until she was gone.

* * *

There was no-one in the corridor when I left the room. Evidently the commotion my fight caused was not loud enough to attract attention from other areas of the facility. No-one came bursting from their rooms.

It was doubtful I would have the same luck once I entered the main thoroughfare. Things would get ugly very fast. I would need to run, and I would need to do it in my own body. I was too tired to morph again.

I hurried back down the corridor to my quarters and locked the door with shaking hands, clutching the bloody Dracon beam awkwardly. My instinct had been to run and keep running until I found an exit or was shot down by Yeerks. It was an instinct born of evolution and no small amount of sheer terror and panic.

 _You are an Andalite!_ A little voice in my head snapped. _Get a hold of yourself. You are better than this._

I murdered four Yeerks and their hosts. I hadn’t just exposed my cover, I had blown it wide open.

_You had no choice. It was either that or end your life here and now. You are no help to your people dead._

<Alright, Esthra, _think_ ,> I said out loud.

My only chance was to steal a Bug fighter from the docks and hope it still operated as well in the air. I could land it discreetly and begin my search for the Andalite warriors. With Jenna’s human DNA now in me I could morph her and pass for human.

It was an insane plan, tantamount to suicide...but I could not stay here any longer. Perhaps it was sheer bravado or madness that made me even consider it, but if I could not find any courage then fear, adrenaline and a sheer will to survive would have to do.

Above the sleeping platform hung a technician’s harness, an article of clothing that strapped comfortably over the chest of my Hork-Bajir body. Within its many compartments, among an impressive amount of assorted electronic components, hid the Escafil device.

I hadn’t dared to reassemble it while undercover, and there were few places to stash it in the plain quarters I was granted as a sub-visser. So it remained in pieces, hidden in plain sight and carried with me at all times.

I pulled the harness across my chest and pulled the straps tight as it would allow. Still loose, but it would do. With some disgust I wiped the bloody Dracon beam on my fur, until I could hold on without fear of dropping it.

I took one last look around my quarters. For a second I had the urge to smash my computer terminal, or try to hack into the central control, or to do _something_ that made it seem less like I was running away in fear.

_You had no choice._

I wish I believed that.

 

There seemed to be no-one in the other sub-vissers’ quarters -- or at least, no-one raised the alarm as I darted past and flattened myself against the far end of the corridor. From what I could see, even the common areas did not seem as busy as anticipated. I knew that would change as soon as I made myself visible.

I would have to move quickly.

_Now!_

I rushed into the main thoroughfare and set off at a fast trot.

A Taxxon to the left! He must have seen me, for his globular eyes fixed on my flank.  His red-rimmed mouth opened - then he saw my tail and decided to back up instead.

Good choice.

I could see the central dock ahead, merely ten or twenty feet, with a Bug fighter on a raised platform. I began to pick up speed.

Behind and to my right, two humans in technicians’ uniforms! They saw me flash past. Stopped. Gaped. Then --

“Andalite! ANDALITE!”

I twisted around and fired the Dracon beam, a deliberately wide shot that hit the far wall.

_Tseew!_

_ZZZZZP!_

That got the Yeerks’ attention. I heard a bellow and several Galard curse words.

I burst into a full run, heading straight for the dock. Almost there --

_Tseew!_

<AAAH!>

A searing pain in my shoulder. I had been shot -- by a human emerging from the laboratory. One of my subordinates!

Hork-Bajir were rapidly closing in on my location, and ahead of me were two more humans in maintenance uniforms.

I lifted the Dracon beam and shot one of the steel rafters. I shot it again, and again as the steel began to bubble.

<One more shot,> I told the humans, <and the pressure of this water will collapse this roof.>

The humans sneered. One said, “You wouldn’t, Andalite. You’d die too.”

<Not today, you filth.>

I shot the beam.

Of course it wouldn’t really collapse the entire roof, not unless the Yeerks built their structures poorly. But they didn’t know that.

In the commotion that followed, I dashed for the dock. I leapt for the raised platform, sprawling awkwardly against the side of the Bug fighter, and plowed inside.

A single Taxxon came scuttling from the bridge. I pointed the Dracon beam at its face. Point blank.

<Get out,> I said, <And I won’t kill you.>

“Sreeeeyahhh!” the creature screeched. Its globulous eyes burned with hatred. But it motored its insectoid legs and left the fighter. I shut the door behind it.

Right now I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep in my own body, until my muscles stopped aching and my eyes no longer burned.

I couldn’t stop now. I had to get out of here, before the Yeerks thought to seal the tunnel and trap me.

I moved to the bridge and said, <Prepare for launch.>

The computer responded with a whirring and an odd siren-like sound, and I quickly ran my fingers over the controls. They seemed to be an odd mix of physical and psychotronic input. Clumsily designed for a prototype. Still, it would do.

As the fighter powered up the platform it rested on began to lower itself, and the murky water rose past the transparent viewing panels on the bridge.

<Activating subaquatic protocols,> the computer said. <Sealing bulkhead.>

<Hurry up!> I shouted at it.

Obviously the computer didn’t respond to yells of panic. It continued to drone on--and all the time I could hear muffled shouts from outside. I was running out of time.

_BOOM!_

The ship rocked and the lights flickered. The Yeerks were shooting at the fighter!

If they hit the engines, I would be trapped in this facility if not killed outright.

I seized the controls and maneuvered the fighter around so it was pointed back towards the tunnel.

<Computer, divert all emergency power to thrusters! Maximum burn!>

_FWOOOSH!_

The Bug fighter shot forward!

Down a tunnel so dark I couldn’t even see its sides. Rocketing towards what could be a sealed end, or into an ambush.

No choice. I had made my decision.

_SkrreEEEEE-eeee! BOOMPF!_

Something hit the fighter! The steel door sealing the tunnel entrance -- an awful rattling and screeching as the twisted metal gave way, then --

Light! Pale blue water!

<Hull breach,> the computer said calmly. I froze. Then --

<Hull sealed.>

I twisted my stalk eyes to look out the observation panels. In my peripheral vision I saw the Yeerk facility below, growing smaller and smaller, then -- the hologram appeared, and all I could see was a wall of rock.

I was free.

 


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for emetophobia.

I was free.

Now what?

<Now you find your people,> I said to myself. <Now you do something useful.>

I guided the Bug fighter past a school of brightly coloured fish, away from the facility.

<Activate cloaking,> I told the computer. I wasn’t out of danger yet.

<Warning. Cloaking malfunction.>

<What?>

_WHUMPF._

A shockwave rocked the ship as a red beam lanced past, boiling the water around it. Evidently the Yeerks had decided to give chase.

I looked around frantically for some sort of switch to alter it for flight. Or would the computer automatically run each protocol as it detected environmental changes? You could never tell with Yeerk technology.

There was only one way to find out.

_WHOOSH!_

A rush of water and a great splash as the ship broke the surface of the water, then kept climbing.

<Activating aeronautic protocols,> the computer said. More muffled grinding sounds as the fighter’s stubby wings readjusted themselves.

_Pah-LOOSH!_

The other Bug fighter burst from the water. It was gaining on me!

_Tseew!_

I seized the controls and banked a hard right, and the Dracon beam missed.

Madness! They were shooting at me in broad daylight!

I angled the fighter upwards and punched the acceleration up to maximum, bending my legs to absorb the sudden momentum. I climbed higher and higher until wispy white clouds brushed its underbelly and swirled around the wings, depositing droplets of water that glistened in the sun.

<Computer, display regional map.>

A three dimensional picture appeared over the forward observation panels. I turned my main eyes towards guiding the ship higher into the atmosphere while my stalk eyes studied the map. As I did, I began to realize humans were far more primitive than expected.

There were cities of course, with higher population density near the coast of this continent. There was a large expanse of what appeared to be a forest. I saw what could only be military headquarters; seacraft, aircraft and ground weaponry.

I already knew they had no interplanetary defenses, but it appeared they were far more helpless than I had originally thought. No wonder the Yeerks found them an easy target.

<Decelerate,> I instructed the computer. <Decrease velocity by forty percent.>

I directed the ship in a smooth arc away from the clouds. Still flying over ocean, but I could see glittering buildings and greyish roads ahead. Then --

<Alert! Vessel on intercept trajectory!>

The other Bug fighter!

It rose from below like a hungry predator, its hull flashing in the sun. It had been following from below! How had I missed it?

I shot a panicked glance at the planet below. We were flying over land now; flashes of green and red-brown trees and rectangular buildings. I could see tiny vehicles and even tinier humans.

If I crashed here I could potentially harm or kill many humans. That, and myself.

<Computer, Maximum Burn!> I shouted. <Get us out of range! NOW!>

_WHAM!_

The other Bug fighter slammed into the bulkhead.

_ScrrrEEE!_

<Argh!>

I fell hard and landed on one shoulder. My tail blade cut into the controls, producing a shower of sparks.

<Deceleration in effect. Hull compromised.>

_BrrrrEEEET! BrrrrEEEET!_

Pain radiated through my shoulder and up the back of my neck, but I pulled myself up with effort.

<Systems malfunction,> the computer said, deadpan. <Stabilizers failing. Adjusting velocity.>

The fighter picked up speed. The hull tore further with a screech that reverberated through my skull. Wind roared in!

I would not survive this crash. That realization was almost too overwhelming; I had to close my eyes as the fighter began to spin.

That was the last thing I remembered.

* * *

<Aaaaaahhhh!>

I woke up screaming.

Pain in every nerve ending! I was on fire. Blind, battered broken -- but I was alive.

I was alive!

<Morph,> I shouted at myself. <Morph. Morph!>

I willed myself to focus on the human DNA inside me; Jenna’s DNA. I had to get out of here. Head for the forest; run, hide before the Yeerks could catch me.

The floor lay at an angle. The Bug fighter’s hull had been ripped open from the impact, and beyond it I could see only darkness. Where had I landed? More importantly, where was the other Bug fighter?

As my stalk eyes retracted into my skull, I suddenly wished I’d had time to practice the morph. I had no idea what defences humans had, nor did I know anything about their strengths or weaknesses.

I knew they had strong arms. I felt the muscles flexing and pulling as I seized the torn metal of the bulkhead and pulled myself upright on still-morphing legs. Humans stood on two flat feet, precariously balanced without any sort of tail. This body -- Jenna’s body -- had a strong upper body and powerful shoulders, but also fat deposits on the chest and lower back that seemed to serve no purpose whatsoever. I had two eyes. A protruding nose. A mouth filled with flat teeth.

All in all, I was an odd-looking creature.

I stumbled out of the crashed ship and flinched as the cold air rushed over my furless skin.

 _I suppose this is why humans wear clothing_ , I thought to myself as I glanced around. It was inadvisable to leave without finding something to wear, if only for others’ sake. From what I’d heard, human social rules were very strict on the appearance and type of clothing one should wear.

I finally managed to find a large piece of fabric used to cover what appeared to be cylindrical storage containers of some kind. It was scratchy and uncomfortable, but it was better than nothing. I wrapped it around myself with some difficulty. I could do nothing about covering my ridiculous pinkish-brown feet.

The Bug fighter had crashed into and through a squat, brown rectangular building. One wall had collapsed from the impact. Bits of metal and crumbled stone segments lay in a trail halfway across the square block of grey concrete. Actual stone and concrete, with polymer-based cement! It was like I had woken up on my own homeworld perhaps five or six hundred years ago.

The block of concrete was deeply cracked and dented in one place; it seemed the ship had bounced and slid straight into the building. No wonder I had been knocked out.

I stepped gingerly over the crumbling wall and turned my face up to the sky. I had not felt the warmth of sunlight for a very long time.

 

By the time I had crossed the square block I could tell humans were poor endurance runners. My flat, soft feet and awkward clothing made it difficult to achieve any sort of speed. My lack of stalk eyes meant I had to turn my head constantly to see behind and to the side.

A shadow passed over me, too large to be from any Earth animal that I knew of. I fought the instinct to freeze like a prey animal, picked up speed and stopped paying attention to the odd human architecture. A long strip of grass, some sort of stone barrier, then I was on a road paved with the same type of dark stone.

I winced as one of my bare feet caught a cluster of rocks. I tripped, staggerd --

_WHOOSH!_

A brightly coloured vehicle missed me by inches! No time to stop now. I ran across the path of another one, dodged another nimbly -

_ScrrrEEEEE!_

“ -- moron! What the -- are you doing?!”

My translator chip didn’t pick up every word, but it didn’t need to. I understood.

Couldn’t stop. Beyond the road was the forest; thick, dark green trees and lush grass. Safety. Food. I hadn’t eaten in my own body for months.

I don’t know how I made it across that terrifying expanse of road without being struck by a vehicle or shot. Although I couldn’t see it, I knew the other Bug fighter had to be close by, cloaked, tracking my moves. I had to hope the Yeerks had orders to keep their presence on Earth a secret. I wouldn’t have a chance otherwise.

I  burst into the forest at a clumsy run. My heart pounded, muscles screaming and lungs expanding painfully with every breath pulled in through my nose and mouth. My feet were in agony; cut and bruised from sharp rocks on the road and leaf litter on the forest floor.

And still I ran.

I ran and I ran until my legs shook with exhaustion and sweat ran in rivulets down my forehead and neck. And when my body finally gave out I hit the ground hard enough to knock what little air I had left in my lungs. Then my stomach heaved and I retched, my entire body spasming.

I did not know humans vomited through their mouths. It was a visceral, highly unpleasant experience.

 

I leaned on my hands and knees with my head hanging down and my hair plastered to my face and back, coughing in spasms, when --

“Is someone there?”

I tried to pull myself back and get to my feet, but my legs collapsed underneath me.

And then a human stepped into my view.

She was young; far younger than any humans I had seen so far. She had dark hair and eyes like Jenna. Her clothing was loose in some places and tighter in others, and she wore a fabric bag slung across one shoulder.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?”

“Stay back!” I warned her, though at this point I was so weak I may as well have been unconscious.

The human stopped and held out her hands in a placating gesture. “Chill, dude. I won’t get up in your personal space if you don’t want me there.”

“I am not cold,” I lied. “I am wearing clothing.”

“You’re wearing a tarp. That’s not exactly in this season.”

“What is TARP?”

The human shrugged, and I saw her step a little closer. I scooted backwards, and she stopped again.

“You look beat up,” she said, her voice softer. “My house is, like, two minutes’ walk from here. My mom’s probably home by now. She knows first aid. She can help you.” She reached for the bag and plunged her hand into it. “Or I can call someone.”

Communications of any kind could be traced by the Bug fighter. “No!”

The human withdrew her hand from the bag, clutching a small, black device. “Are you sure? I can’t just leave you out here. It’ll be dark soon.”

“I don’t need medical attention. I need…”

I got to my feet with difficulty and looked around with blurred vision. Nothing but thick brush and foliage in all directions. Fear stabbed through my chest as I realized I could not possibly know if the fighter was still following me. It could be above me right now, waiting for me to follow the human girl into her dwelling.

I had no qualms about the Yeerks sacrificing a few dozen humans. Not if it meant capturing an Andalite.

Unless, I thought, they hoped I would move deeper into the forest, so they would not have to waste potential host bodies.

The human girl seemed disconcerted, and I realised I had been staring at her intensely. She hovered at a safe distance, but she seemed unwilling to leave.

She could have left, if I made her feel threatened. She might still follow me, even if out of concern. How could she possibly know what kind of danger she was in?

“What is your name?” I asked her.

She blinked, then smiled. “My name is Courtney.”

I took a deep breath. “Do you really wish to help me?”

“Sure.”

I stood to my full height, and began to demorph.


End file.
